Rockwaller: On The Lam
by Alice Shade
Summary: Prequel to "Rockwaller: Rites of Passage". Rated due to implied violence, sex, and international financial crime.


Legal drek disclaimer.

I do not own the show, nor any character. All fanfiction clauses apply. No profit could ever be sought nor garnered through perusal of this text. Anyone interested has the right to write sequel, prequel, remake, whathave you. For the most inquisitive, there are author notes in the end.

Rockwaller - On The Lam.

Electronics were "definitely" NOT the thing to invest into, right now. With the market oversaturation following the latest technological boom, prices on fab production had been steadily falling. So were the stocks. Considering the figures, Bonnie shook her head bemusedly. People, as a rule of thumb, had troubles comprehending the concept of foresight. Sure, computer parts were dime a dozen right now. But how long would that tendency last? Microchips are not diamonds - they are rapidly losing their value with time. So the drastic drop in the price of average electronic gear only meant that better, faster, costlier models would be offered soon. This was the time to buy, not sell. And Bonnie bought.

A lot of people would be more then a little surprised to find Bonnie Rockwaller busy studying numbers in the corner of noisy stock exchange hall, yet there she was, jotting down quick notes. She had just about lost her voice with all the din in the room, but that mattered little to her as she totalled her efforts. She liked the end figure of totals. If her estimations and subtle hints she bought for a pretty penny were right, this interaction might turn up a venture capital enough to consider aiming higher. Possibly, even hiring a long-term agent to represent her at stock exchange. Keeping her voice in working condition threatened to become more expensive then hiring a professional haggle-man.

Stacking the papers neatly together, she carefully shuffled them into the briefcase, and headed for the exit, slipping between the ever-shifting mass of agents and small-time businessmen graciously. As she passed by the obese gentleman in cheap suit, one of the clasps on her briefcase lost the grip and unbuckled. However, before any of the papers could even begin to slide out, her fingers gripped the top with iron grasp and kept the lid shut while she made her way through last few yards of bustling crowd. Obese man followed her with eyes, and shouted to his compatriot, shifty looking person with beanpole physique - "Since then highschoolers play stock market, Bill?"

Shifting back beanpole man shouted back - "She's Rockwaller, man! Youngest of the family. Guess old man's making them all learn how to earn their fortunes, so she's playing us small-timers for petty buck." "Yeah? Well, she's got no head for business, man. She bought out two dump packages just from me, I swear." - fat man rumbled back, bending over as stray briefcase rammed in his side. Bill nimbly avoided the same briefcase, and yelled back - "Are you sure them's dumping stocks, Jerry? Rockwallers ain't known for buyin' garbage!" Grabbing the wall and steadying himself, Jerry took a couple moments to gather his reply together. His belly heaved as he bellowed out a short laugh - "Sure? Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure, considering one of 'em is filin' for bankruptcy next week! Really, Bill, stock ain't tha' place for young'ins to fool around. Guess she's gonna be short on allowance today, har!" Bill merely shook his head. Unlike Jerry, he had already tried to barter with the girl, and after all was said and done, he could not honestly say he was the one to profit.

* * *

Manager was very bored. Phone had rung a couple of times, but she didn't felt like picking it up. As far as Simone was concerned, it would not change a thing. With bankruptcy lurking just behind the corner, what was the point? Dwayne could've babbled about his almost achieved breakthrough as much as he wanted, but heaps of technobabble just weren't good to pay her bills with. Salary would do just fine in that regard, but, alas, technobabble was it's substitute and promise of payday. As soon as it's out of lab... Sure. Right. Immediately. After a rainy Thursday. In short, Simone held absolutely no faith in her job security. Thus, she felt no desire to be productive.

Door opened with a bang, letting in Dwayne. Skraggy geek was always unnaturally excited, but today, he was positively exuberant. Perhaps the reality finally sunk in, thought Simone, as she prepared to listen for yet another spiel about oh so important technical achievements, which, unfortunately, were completely worthless in monetary equivalent. However, Dwayne surprised her by handing her a check. A check for her salary, plus a bonus for late payment.

- Dwayne, what the hell? Did you decide to pay us with bouncing checks, now?  
- Hello to you too, Simone. This check won't bounce, I assure you.  
- Yeah, right. And money does grow on trees. Dwayne, we're about to start auctioning off our furniture to pay everyone their salaries. Our salary account is supposed to be closed tomorrow, for crying out loud!  
- Not anymore. Someone bought out sixty four percents of stocks on market yesterday. So, uh, we kinda have a new owner. She phoned early in the morning, and told me to pay everyone.  
- ...What the hell? HOW could you possibly pay anyone when our account is about to be closed?  
- Simone, I told you, not anymore! She shuttled her monthly dividends into our salary funds, so between that and price of stocks we sold we're back in business.  
- You're pulling my leg. Noone's THAT altruistic or that stupid... Well, same thing, actually.  
- Uh, she's not doing it for free, Simone. It seems she's quite well aware just what are we doing here. She also demands we concentrate everything on Durandal project and get it on market ASAP.  
- Durandal?... You mean that crazy little thing you guys shelved last month?  
- Please, Simone. This crazy little thing is only a quad-core processor capable of besting Extel's cutting edge brand by whopping forty percents!  
- Provided you ever get it finished and actually get the damn thing in manufacturing before it becomes obsolete.  
- Well, that's what she demands to be done ASAP... Uh, also her dividends shuttled are a loan, not a gift. We're supposed to pay them back with twenty percent interest within three months... If Durandal hits the market within those months.  
- And if not?  
- ...uh, if we drop the ball, she gets the dibs on bankruptcy party, I guess? She never mentioned anything about that.  
- Great. Just great. Dwayne, I swear, if we'll end up hobos because of your grand vision, I will personally smother you with a filthy smelly ratty overcoat in a grimy dumpster somewhere in western Bronx. And then eat your corpse.  
- I love you too, Simone. Now let's get on them phones, shall we? We've got a business to do.  
- Just a second, Dwayne. What's the name of our new CEO?  
- Uh, er... Um. I never caught the name, actually...  
- You WHAT?  
- Wait, wait! I have it written down... Ah, here. Her name is Rockwaller. Bonnie Rockwaller.

* * *

Headlines were shouting at people. Every newspaper deemed it necessary to get a scoop. Every local newspaper deemed it necessary to devote a front page to the event. "DoD contracts local company for computers!" "Middleton geeks on USA service!" "Middleton chips going to space!" Even though it was already day three since the news broke out, story was still fresh and exciting. Silicon Dream R&D winning a tender with government. Department of Defense taking particular interest in freshly developed Durandal processors. Announcement that Durandals will be used for a network of telemetry satellites all over the world. Huge profits for everyone involved. Exclusive interviews with company representatives Dwayne Belkovitz and Simone McKenzie. Rumors about a shady owner of the company pulling strings. Paparazzi. Independent investigations. Grandiose ceremony at the first satellite launch.

Bonnie shook her head bemusedly, as she picked the newspaper at the corner stand. She was returning from stock exchange, where she, through the help of her agents and figurehead shareholders sold the stocks of Silicon Dream R&D back to Dwayne and his representatives. Silicon Dream hit the peak, it's stocks being among the most valued on local exchange. She knew that the only way for company was downhill, now. Hopefully, having the ownership of company and enough of personal fortune amassed, Dwayne would be able to keep away another bankruptcy. Bonnie wouldn't hold her fingers crossed, though. She got all the profit she possibly could from Silicon Dream in general, and Dwayne in particular - it was time to move on. Which she did quite nicely, cutting herself some pretty lucrative deals in grain and imports. Per her estimations, successful stint with this geekery had just put her over her first million of pure profit and on fast track to second.

As she passed the gates, she regarded Rockwaller mansion. One day, it would be her mansion, she thought quite often. Lately, that dream had become somewhat more grounded in reality, as her personal fortune increased. Of course, she still was not a financier of same caliber as her father, nor close to that. On the flip side, she was pretty sure neither of her sisters had achieved anything on earning front at all. They easily bested her at spending, but then again, capability to spend is only improved with rigorous practice. Perhaps, one day, Bonnie would even have the right to wield the very cane of Jebediah Rockwaller, the first of Rockwallers. She supposed she respected the sheer grit and mettle of a man who came to US of A as impoverished fugitive and came to be a wealthy fabricant and a founder of powerful family.

Alas, Bonnie's visions of grandeur had been shattered as she entered the manor. Her gut told her to be on guard from the very beginning. It was very unusual for whole family to be together. It was even more unusual for them to be waiting for her, as they appeared to be doing right now. As Bonnie attempted to recall, what could possibly urge all of family to come together, her mother provided her with answer. Unfortunately, that was the answer of a kind Bonnie was not prepared to deal with.

- Bonnie? Glad you found the time to visit your home. Perhaps, you can explain to us just what this bill is all about?  
- Bill..?

Frowning, Bonnie looked over the bill. She could not recognize the name of company it came from. Then, she scowled, her answer written on the bill itself - "Mom, that's not mine. Last time I visited clinic was three months ago, for my eyesight exam. So..." Whatever Bonnie had to say, was left unknown, as at this time, her mother's hand had connected to her cheek quite abruptly.

- Don't you dare to lie to me, Bonnie! This bill had came through your credit card.  
- ...Wha... What the hell...?  
- *slap* Don't you dare to swear at me either, young lady! Do you think we're not aware just what kind of clinic that is! Do you?  
- ...Uhn. Just WHAT kind of clinic it is?  
- HOW DARE YOU!

Apparently, Madeline was about to slap Bonnie again, but at this time her father intervened. He stepped past his wife, and addressed Bonnie directly.

- This is a clinic that handles dermatology and venerealogy. I'm very disappointed in you, Bonnie. Very disappointed that you are that promiscuous to require their services. And even more disappointed now, as you're trying to play us for fools.  
- But father...! It's not MY bill!  
- Really? How come I don't believe you? Maybe it's because bill came from your credit card? Or maybe it's dated the day before yesterday, the day you were mysteriously absent from morning till late evening? Dare I venture to suggest you were at the clinic getting your treatment?  
- But I.. I wasn't!  
- Is that so? Where were you, then?  
- At the stock exchange!  
- ...Hrm. A likely story. Really, Bonnie, you should've known better then attempting to flatter me in so hamfisted a way and expect it would fly. As it would happen, Lonnie had seen you loitering around the clinic, as she was passing by it in the morning. Please, Bonnie. Just admit what were you doing, and we'll work together to help you through this. We are a family, after all.  
- BUT I DIDN'T!

Shaking her head, father went back to his original place, letting the mother take over. She did not seem to be any more trusting then father. "That's enough, Bonnie. You are grounded indefinitely until you admit the truth. Go to your room." - was her mother's verdict. Glancing on Lonnie, Bonnie gritted her teeth. There was no possible way parents would believe her word against Lonnie's and the damned bill. Where the hell could it come from, she wondered. Perhaps her card was NOT taken by dad, after all. Perhaps, Lonnie was just pulling her leg about that. Perhaps some unfortunate silly girl had gotten herself in situation where using ill-gotten card was the only way to get medical attention... Or, perhaps, bill had nothing to do with her at all, and parents were just using her as scapegoat.

Clenching her fists, Bonnie shook her head. "No." - she ventured, looking on her mother. That did have some effect. "What do you mean, no? You're grounded until you confess, end of story. We can't abide your atrocious behavior no more, Bonnie. Not after... THIS." - her mother retorted, eying Bonnie with a measure of disgust.

- No. I'm not going to my room. I do not have my credit card currently, nor did I made that charge in clinic. Nor did I ever ventured within that clinic to begin with. Nor did I ever done anything that might give me the need to go to that damned clinic! I was at the stock exchange.  
- ...Just how long to you plan to keep that silly charade? It's plenty obvious you were at the clinic, Bonnie. Just what is that you caught that you have to deny it in the face of evidence?  
- I'm clean as a whistle! Look, I'm not...

At this point, Bonnie's speech was interrupted by another slap. Her mother leaned close, and hissed in her face - "ENOUGH. I've had enough of your petty act. Go to your room NOW or consider yourself disowned." Something snapped. Bonnie hit back. Not slapped, but hit - a full-scale, no holds barred left hook to the jaw. As she vaulted over the sofa to the exit, she shouted over her shoulder - "Disowned, then! Farewell and good riddance, you two-faced traitorous bigots! I hope you'll choke on that bill and die drowning in your bile!"

* * *

Grumbling, Bonnie adjusted the light-shade, hoping to get the ratty lamp shed more light on her papers and less on the grimy ceiling. Supper was giving her a heartburn. Hiding out at cheap motels in Lowerton wasn't particularly pleasant, but provided enough of safe haven from her sisters. At first, she attempted to settle in Middleton hotel, but the very next day got egged by her siblings. Considering her options, Bonnie had decided to move out of Middleton for a while. Upperton was out of question. Of course, it had best accommodations, but living in hotels there would put a serious drain on her money, not to mention the commuting time she would have to spend on getting to Middleton for her business needs. Not to mention her parents frequented Upperton quite often.

That left Lowerton. Hotels were cheap enough, but accommodations were appropriate to the price - meager. Sucking out a package of Maalox, Bonnie cast the last irritable glance over her paperwork. About a month after the escape from her family, and she was still out in the market for a home. At least she was able to purchase nondescript sedan almost right away, which greatly helped her. She even considered living in her car, but a night or two of car sleeping had discouraged her from that quite efficiently. At least this latest offer looked promising. A house in suburbia between Lowerton and Middleton. Way off any place her family might venture to, and close enough to Middleton to make driving there tolerable. She just needed to weather two days in motel until the deal would be finalized and house would become legally hers.

Everything seemed to be in order, so Bonnie gathered papers and stacked them neatly into file. File in hand, she went down to manager's office, to get papers locked in hotel's safe. She'd prefer her room to have separate safe, of course, but only places with that kind of service would be found in Upperton, where she wouldn't want to show herself just yet. So renting herself a deposit box in hotel's safe was the best she could do at the moment.

After the papers' were secured, Bonnie was intending to go back to her room and sleep, but changed her plans as she heard the sounds of excessive merriment coming from bar. Figuring she wouldn't be opposed to a glass of something strong to warm her guts, she crossed the threshold into the realm of drunk and stupid. As she saw the cause of ruckus, she almost regretted her decision. It appeared that a brawl was currently in progress. Strangely one-sided brawl, Bonnie observed, as she made her way to the counter, requesting a shot of gin sling and ashtray offhandedly. Apparently, alcohol service was one of the selling points of hotel - Bonnie's gin appeared by her elbow almost before she managed to settle on the stool, followed shortly by ashtray. She downed the glass abruptly, and exhaled loudly, feeling the warm numbness spreading from her belly. Bartender flipped open a lighter casually, lighting Bonnie's slim cigarette, as she settled to watch the clownish brawl.

It was quite obvious one of the guys was drunk. He was trying to hit other in earnest. Unfortunately, he wasn't sober enough to do so. Other moved quite erratically, but did not seem all that inebriated. This one looked quite familiar - and also wasn't throwing any punches, kicks or any other strikes. He just dodged the first, letting the first to bust his limbs on various hard furniture objects. As Bonnie leafed through her mental list of people she knew, she came to starting realization that second combatant was none other then Ron Stoppable. What was he doing in the random bar in Lowerton, brawling with drunk patron, no less?

Suddenly, the brawl ended. Rather anticlimactically, too. Drunk guy got tired of swinging at thin air, and tried a tackle. And tackle he did - the door to the restrooms, which refused to tolerate such wanton attention and with a loud creak swung open. Drunkard disappeared within the rankness of restroom and, by all signs, was warmly welcomed there by urinals. After the sounds of initial greeting had died down, it became pretty obvious that brawl is over. Considering the second combatant was already busy ordering himself a beer at the bar, that resolution was satisfactory to everyone. Much to Bonnie's surprise, people generally failed to pay special attention to Ron, despite him being just in the center of attention. Must be something he learned to do during his world-saving hijinks, Bonnie decided, as she moved to the next stool.

- Hey, Ron. What brings you here?  
- Wha... Who... Oh. Hey there, Bon-Bon. Fancy meeting you here. Thought this ain't your scene.  
- It's not. Usually. Where's miss perfect and who are you two stalking around here? This cheapo guy, perhaps?  
- Um... Er, no. KP's not here. I'm just blowing off some steam, Bon-Bon. Nothing to worry about.  
- Steam, eh? Just what got you so steamed up in first place? Did you caught miss perfect cheating, or something?  
- Hey, lay off her already, Bonnie! And no, this has nothing to do with KP. I'm just taking a day off. What, can't a guy sneak out for a beer? I'm nineteen, for crying out loud.  
- Keep it down, proud nineteen. Drinking age is twenty one, for once.  
- Oh crap.

Ron looked around and sighed in relief, having verified absence of attempts at removal of his beer. Done with this task, he glanced on Bonnie, noting the empty glass by her elbow.

- Say, aren't you also drinking underage?  
- Mr. Franklin says otherwise, Ron. Look, how about we skip past the drinking and get to the point?  
- That point being?  
- What the hell are you doing at Lowerton hotel bar, doi.  
- Just having me a beer, honest.  
- Uh-huh. Ron, this place ain't the first or second place people would visit for beer. Actually, only patrons are long-time drunkards who live nearby and hotel guests. Since you ain't a drunkard in good standing, I'm going to go with second theory. Which makes me wonder, just what are you doing here staying in this ratty hotel.  
- Ok, if I'll tell you I run away from home, will you let me have my beer in peace?  
- ...WHAt?... Ron, just what the hell had happened?  
- Look, I don't want to talk about it, alright?  
- Fine, fine, no need to be so touchy. So just how long do you plan to stay here?  
- Until my money runs out.  
- And then what?  
- Then? Then I guess I'll check out hobo lifestyle. Always wanted to sleep in cardboard box.

That gave Bonnie a little pause. Such attitude wasn't usual for Ron. Considering the situation, Bonnie filed it under "find out later" folder. It would take some time to get Ron comfy enough to spill the beans. As her heartburn suddenly returned, Bonnie was hit with inspiration. Perhaps, this meeting could serve her interests very fine.

- Uh. Say, Ron, what if I had a better proposal for you?  
- What do you mean?  
- Well, look here. I'm also on the outs with my family. But unlike you, I have a steady income and I'm buying a home right now. I might offer you a room in that house, if you want it.  
- Right. What's the catch, Bon-Bon?  
- Catch? Oh, it's simple. I'm going to hire you, see. You're gonna do the cooking and cleaning around the house. In return, you get boarding, food, and pocket money.  
- ...Wait, wait, wait. You're gonna hire ME as a housekeeper?  
- Duh. I've tried your cooking at school and you're damn good. Had you tried my cooking at home economy class?... Er, I'm going to assume yes, given your face contortion.  
- The horror, the horror!  
- Well... Yes. I can't cook. Which is why I want to hire you to do it for me. Fair enough?

Ron scratched his head, pondering the offer. On one hand, he was quite wary of Bonnie, who was not above pretty cruel jokes in school. On other, the only other option he had was the life of hobo, which he wasn't too thrilled about to begin with. Besides, admission that he is hired primarily for his cooking did gave some plausibility to offer. Ron was aware he cooks good, at the very least. Having come to conclusion, he nodded resolutely - "Butler Ron at your service, ma'am. When do I move in?" Flagging bartender for refill, Bonnie replied offhandedly - "The day after tomorrow." Apparently, Ron thought otherwise, considering the embarrassed look on his face - "Eh-heh-heh... Can we possibly move that to tomorrow?"

- No, house won't be ready by then. What's the hurry, Ron?  
- Er. Um. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of already out of money... So, er, I have to vacate room by eleven tomorrow.  
- ...Good grief. You sure thought ahead with running away from home and everything.  
- Hey, lay off! It's not like... Um... I mean, it was kinda a spurt decision... Yes.  
- Whatever.

Smiling ruefully, Bonnie reached in her pocket, and pulled out her wallet. Withdrawing a hundred dollar bill, she handed it over to Ron - "Consider this your first month's salary." Blonde's face brightened - "Oh man, thanks, Bonnie!... Er, a hundred...?"

- Yes. A hundred per month. Considering you also get free boarding, I consider that adequate enough for now. Take it or leave it.  
- ...This bites. Gah, I guess I... Uh, I accept. I mean... Uh...  
- Chill it, Ron. Give me a good reason to praise your work, and I'll consider paying you better. Until then...  
- Message received. Don't worry, I won't disappoint, I promise.  
- For your sake, you'd better not. Oh, that reminds me. You need to have the uniform, so tomorrow you're going with me to get you one.  
- Uniform? Just... Er, what kind of uniform?  
- Hm. Let me think... Stockings, definitely. A garter belt. Frilly maid's apron... Hm, chef's hat...Oh, and a good nice tanning at solarium... That would work for starters.  
- Wait, wait, WHAT! Wait, Bonnie, this ain't what I agreed to! I'm not a gigolo or something like that!  
- BWaHAHA! Gotcha!  
- ...ugh.  
- Seriously enough, Ron, I expect you to be on best behavior at my house. One lewd comment from you, let alone something more grating, and you're going to find yourself in slammer sooner then you can pronounce rumpelstiltskin. Comprende?  
- Ci, signorita! Only the best for madame Rockwaller, I swear.  
- Good. As for uniform, as much as I'd enjoy picking something utterly humiliating for you, it's gonna lose the novelty in a week. So what we're REALLY going shopping for is your chef's equipment. Apron, hat and all the knives, eggbeaters, spatulas and other thingamajigs you need to prepare my meals.  
- Phew... I can roll with that, I guess.  
- You'd better. And remember, you break something - you replace it.  
- ...Yes. I got it.

* * *

- Oh, come on, do we have to?  
- Yes, Ron. We DO. Also, stop addressing me like I'm your mom, because I'm not. I'm your damn employer, so what I say goes. Look, do you really want to end up on the wrong side of IRC audit? If you're working for me, it has to be legally documented and archived and proper tax deduction figured and registered.  
- Tax deduction? From hundred a month? Just how much would I end up with after all this? A nickel?  
- ...No. Hundred is your monthly salary after tax deduction. Ron, I'm not the kind samaritan, I admit that. But I also don't screw people over. Cause, damnit, they WILL screw me over in return sooner or later. It just does not pay off to be dishonest on such petty level.  
- ...Oh.  
- Oh?  
- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just... uh, I just don't get this whole tax thing.  
- Apology accepted. For future reference, do ask before yelling, because I'm not going to be so lenient next time. Come to me with straight question, and I'll give you an honest answer.  
- Sorry. You're right, I was out of line... You're the boss.  
- That's better. Cheer up, we're going to hit the shops for your knives and stuff after.  
- Ah, that's more up my valley... Er, uh, wait. Just how much am I allowed to spend?  
- Whatever there is in your wallet, doi.  
- Er, what?... Please tell me you're kidding. A single knife would cost more then I have there right now.  
- Tough tacos.  
- ...I'm serious. I have a twenty and some odd change in my pocket. Even if I pick the cheapest there is, my crown achievement would be seasoned instant noodles.  
- I know... I'm pulling your leg. Don't worry, you'll be able to buy all what you need... Within reasonable, that is.  
- OK, I guess. Oh, while we're talking about cooking... Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?  
- How personal?...  
- Well, I do need to know if you have any allergies or diet requirements.  
- Huh. That's... professional of you, Ron.  
- Well, I don't want to screw up...  
- Fair enough. I'm mildly intolerant to lactose, so be sure to use soy milk. Other then that, I'm fine with anything that is not liable to give me instant heart attack with fats and cholesterol.  
- Duly noted.  
- By the way, you're going grocery shopping tomorrow. I'm going to be absent till early afternoon, and by the time I get back, I expect the house to be prepared for living and meal prepared for consumption.  
- Erk... House prepared how? As in, furniture moved in or how?  
- Nah, furniture is already there. You'll just have to unpack everything. Your room is next to kitchen on the first floor, by the way. Second floor is mine.  
- Um... Er. OK. Do I have to unpack your... um, y'know... too?  
- No. THAT I'm bringing myself, thankyouverymuch. Just handle your stuff, kitchen and make sure everywhere's clean and in order.  
- Can do.  
- I sure hope so.

* * *

Wearily, Bonnie pushed the door open and stepped out of her car. Apparently, Ron had enough of foresight to bring his scooter along, silly contraption neatly tucked into the nook by the garage door out of her way. Brownie points scored. She closed garage and stepped into the house, tossing her jacket on the hanger haphazardly. Boots were kicked off next, as Bonnie took the stock of house. Den seemed to be A-OK. Except for the fact that remote was on the sofa. Shaking her head, Bonnie picked it and placed it on top of TV. Acceptable. As she ventured to inspect other rooms, she was intercepted by Ron, who came out of kitchen to investigate who came. He smiled at her, waving spatula in the air.

- Welcome home, m'lady. Your dinner is just about ready, if you please.  
- Hey, Ron. What is it?  
- Cossack borscht and lamb choplets under sour cream. Also, caramel-candied melon is available for the dessert.  
- Sounds good... Serve the table, will you?  
- Already taken care of, m'lady.

With that, Ron gestured towards the table. Indeed, a steaming bowl of red soup dominated the center, complete with wooden spoon and rye bread. Behind it, a plate of antrecotes smothered under white sauce awaited their turn. A tankard completed this rustic meal. Quirking her brow, Bonnie took a seat, taking the spoon in hand. Giving it a dubious glance, she muttered - "I hope I won't get splinters from this.", sinking it into the thick soup. She didn't.

Half an hour later brunette leaned back, eying the table with sated pleasure. Ron was indeed as good at cooking as she remembered and then some more. She reached for her pocket, feeling for her newly-habitual after-meal package of Maalox, but as her fingers felt around the edge of medicine pack, she hesitated. Heartburn, which accompanied nearly every her meal since she moved to Lowerton was not present. But how long that would last without a gulp of gooey drug to stave it off for good? ...Wait, gooey? Her interest sparked, Bonnie sat up and examined her meal leftovers. Then turned to Ron, and asked him - "Ron, per any chance, did your choice of today's meal was in any way connected to me complaining about heartburn yesterday?" He hesitated, then nodded - "Sort of, yes. Sour cream usually helps with heartburn and borscht is just all-around hearty food, so..." Bonnie nodded back to him - "I see. Thank you for being considerate." Standing up, she stretched, and announced - "I will be working upstairs. I intend to stay up late, so I want a supper prepared by nine in the evening." Ron nodded and smiled again - "Sure, no problem. Yell if you'll need anything."

* * *

It was a good day. Good day to kick back and do nothing, that is. Bonnie was eternally glad she had planned this day as day-off, too - rain was coming down hard outside, downpour murking the sunshine to twilight. She had notified Ron to perform all necessary purchases and out-of-house activities in anticipation of day-off as well. As lofty as it sounded, Bonnie had plainly enjoyed being catered to, and for some reason, Ron seemed to excel in this. Of course, he wasn't faultless, but none of his fails had been dire enough to warrant more then mild exasperation from Bonnie. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact he was able to realize the failure and begin correcting it before Bonnie actually berated him for it. So, Bonnie was satisfied. It's been almost two months now, and she had firmly decided to keep Ron around as long as possible. At least, as long as possible without resorting to forcing him into it.

She swung her legs off the bed, and stood up, stretching. Her right calf felt numb, but that was hardly something worth attention, she considered, as she threw on bathrobe and lumbered to the bathroom. As she passed by the stairs, she was seen by Ron - who, apparently, was already busy doing something in the den. Probably, setting up something for her pleasure. He called out, apparently quite pleased to see his boss lady as well - "Good morning, ma'am Bon-Bon. Breakfast should be ready in a jiffy! Would you like coffee or green tea today?"

As Bonnie turned her head to address him, she pondered her response. Green tea, she decided, since it was a day-off, after all. "Green tea, Ron. Make it without sugaaAIiiie...!" - apparently, she wanted tea without sugar, but the phrase was never finished, as she misstepped with with her still-numb right leg, and tripped over the bannister. As she grabbed a hold of it, her bathrobe flew open, and in a moment of vanity, she let go of rail to close her garment - sending herself plummeting back-first down the stairs. Or would've, anyway. Thankfully, her fall was broken roughly in the middle of stairs, before she had the chance to actually hit them. Instead, she hit Ron's arms, and stayed there.

- Goddamnit!...  
- ...Whew. It's ok, I got you, Bon-Bon.  
- ...Put me down!

Obliging, Ron had crouched and tilted his arms to slip Bonnie off on her feet. However, as soon as she attempted to stand, she jerked and fell back in his embrace, whimpering.

- AAgh!... dAMMIT!... I think... I twisted ankle or something.  
- That's OK, I've got you.

Seeing as further stalling on the stairs had no reason, Ron picked Bonnie up securely, and carried her down the stairs, depositing her on the sofa. She wasn't thrilled by that, but acquiesced to the necessity, and was quite pleased he did vacate her personal space as soon as she was securely seated on the sofa.

Brunette felt her foot and winced. There went her relaxation, she thought sourly, as she rubbed her calf with trepidation. Sighing, she turned her head to inform Ron of the new situation, but this time, he was already ahead. By the time Bonnie decided to turn attention to him, Ron was coming back into the den, carrying a bowl of cold water and paper towels. As he settled the bowl by the sofa and folded towels neatly over the armrest, Bonnie smiled - "Thank you, Ron. That was a close call."

- Anytime, Bon-Bon.  
- Can you fetch me by belt? I've lost it during the fall, I think.  
- Certainly.

While he was searching the stairs and around them for the belt, Bonnie made sure to wrap herself strategically into bathrobe to ensure decency. She was just about to wet a towel, when Ron appeared with the missing detail of her ensemble. Thanking him again, Bonnie sent him off to finish preparing tea and breakfast, while she tended to her foot. She was familiar enough with such injuries from her cheerleading days to know it wasn't anything serious. Just annoying and a bit painful. A good rub would take care of everything just nicely, she knew, but it would be just too much of a hassle to find professional masseur who'd take housecall in suburbia on rainy Sunday. It would be much easier to just swing by spa tomorrow.

Reviewing the incident, she considered Ron's participation in it. While the premise of situation was quite akin to setting for a trashy-sappy romance story or porn movie, she was quite satisfied with his conduct. Although it was obvious Ron is quite acutely aware of her femininity, he handled the situation in a professional manner and let none of the salaciousness slip into his actions. Which pleased Bonnie, since that meant she could trust him with more intimate tasks in the future.

Bonnie called for her manservant, requesting to be brought into kitchen. She initially intended to hobble there, using Ron as a crutch, but in the last moment held back with exact directions, curious as to how he would handle the task. To a bit of her surprise, Ron just carried her into kitchen and sat her on the chair without really thinking about it. She found such detachment fascinating - and when Bonnie was fascinated, she tended to investigate.

- Say, Ron... You've been my, heh, butler, for over two months now. How come?  
- Um, well, I like it here? I get food, boarding, pocket money and you're a good boss. What more could I expect?  
- Well, thanks for compliment, but that's not what I asked, and you know it. You've left a lot behind in Middleton, and I can't help but wonder. What holds you here?  
- Um, I do believe I've already answered that, m'lady. Food, boarding and salary. And I like working for you, too.  
- Enough of dancing around the issue, alright? I'm aware you find the conditions in my house to be good, but I'm also aware you never explained just what happened back in Middleton to force you run away from house like that. I respect your right for deciding how you want to spend your life, but I'd like at least some hints about what made you leave - just so it wouldn't spill over on me, if nothing else. For all I know, miss priss might bust down my door one day and drag you back to Middleton.  
- ...NNgh. Fair enough, but what about you?... How do I know your separation from family won't spill out on me, as you put it?  
- ...Fair enough. But I call your bluff here. I explain why I left, you explain why you left. I'll begin, since it's mine idea.  
- ...Fine.  
- First of all, I always hated my sisters. Both of them are haughty stuck-up bitches who love to denigrate people just for kicks. Considering I'm youngest sibling, you can guess who got the lion share of their... unpleasantries. I would just ignore them if they'd badmouth me, but neither Connie nor Lonnie can really grasp the concept of proportion, so their recreation more often then not inflicts nasty collateral damage on my life.  
- ...Right. I've met them a couple of times, so I sort of get where you're coming from...  
- They're even worse at home. Next up is my mom. She is vapid and stubborn - and that's a dangerous combination. Especially for me. Vapid means she is gullible enough to believe practically anything, no matter how outrageous it sounds, and stubborn means she won't accept anything contrary to what she had already believed in without some hard facts she's not able to handwave. For example, she still believes Connie and Lonnie are angels incarnate - and that is despite posting bail for Lonnie when she was busted with a bag of weed. Unfortunately, my dearest sisters, may they burn in hell, had managed to persuade her I'm a jailbait, so when she's dealing with me, her first assumption is that I've done it and is currently in process of covering it up. It being anything from dealing meth to getting university scholarship. I'm probably exaggerating here, but she had done plenty of silly stuff to me just to omit admitting she was mistaken.  
- Reminds me of my dad, actually. Continue, please.  
- Last but not least is my dad. He's not so bad, per ce, but he's way too busy with his business to actually notice family stuff on his own. Ergo, his perception of family is mostly coming from mom - and you can guess just how she pictures me.  
- I see...  
- Anyway. My family isn't exactly the best out there, so my departure had been more or less a work in progress ever since I've hit teens. What broke camel's back was an issue of certain bill. Skipping the tawdry details, this bill came from clinic which handles stuff like STDs. Bill is in my name and paid with via my credit card. Mother went ballistic about it. Lonnie "confirmed" she saw me around the clinic. That pretty much made all of family think I've been treating something unladylike in that clinic. That idea didn't sat well with me, for obvious reasons, so I had to depart. Obviously, I've never used the services of aforementioned clinic. Moreso, my credit card went missing a couple days before, and Lonnie told me that it was father who took it. It is like her to gloat about such stuff, so chances are father indeed took it. Which means at least he is aware I was not in the clinic. For some reason, he still chooses to believe I was.  
- Ugh. That's... rank.  
- Succinctly put, Ron. It stinks. A lot. I have no idea why would my family want to represent me as meretricious harlot so desperately, so until I figure out why would they, I choose to stay the hell away from them. I suppose living with a single manservant ought to pour some gasoline in the issue, but I don't really care anymore as long as I can keep clear of them. Two-faced bastards. Alright, your turn. How do I know Possible won't come knocking on my door one morning demanding I release you immediately from your doubtless enslavement in the kitchen?  
- Huh? You mean you don't know? I thought all of the school heard about it. We broke up. Like, in a nasty way, too.  
- Oh? I was a bit busy building up venture capital back then, so I missed school gossips. Care to elaborate, or it's something you're not sharing?  
- Nah, it's not that big of secret. We, like, hooked up during homecoming dance, and everything was good for me... But not for KP, it looks like, 'cause she gave me "let's just be friends" talk a few weeks later. Before you ask - no, I don't know why she did. According to her it "interfered with our friendship". Anyway, I was really sick of emotional rollercoaster she kept me on, so I turned her down.  
- Er... How, exactly, do you turn down someone who's dumping you?  
- I told her "Let's not."  
- ...Oh. Gutsy move. So, what happened?  
- She took it personally. WAY personally. At first, she, like, ignored me for a week. Then, she gone and kidnapped me.  
- You're kidding.  
- I swear I'm not. She snuck in my room at night, made sure I stay asleep with some knockout gas, then actually dragged me out to her attic. She had Wade scan my head and... Bleugh. Let's skip the details, alright? Suffice to say that her parents weren't particularly happy with her that morning when I woke up and started making ruckus. I was actually considering restraining order, believe it or not, but Dr. Possible talked to me and gave her word to set KP straight and narrow if I won't go to police. I'm guessing she did dispense some megaton-tough parental loving, because I haven't heard from KP for about a month, then she sent me a letter, in which she profusely apologizes, admits she got way over her head, and that she would understand if I'll never want to speak to her again, although she hopes I'll talk to her again someday. I wrote back... Eventually. So, no, unless you're actually going to handcuff me to oven, I doubt KP would come looking for me anytime soon.  
- Well, that's fine and dandy, but that's not why you run away from home, is it?  
- Yeah, it isn't.  
- So, why did you?  
- ... Oh well, you're gonna find out sooner or later anyway. See, it's my dad. He's a lot like your mom, only about money. Remember when I got rich? Well, most of money is in trust fund, and dad was supposed to be overseeing it until I turn twenty one. The problem is, that he likes to invest. And has zero common sense, when it comes to that. And hell, I don't understand HOW does he manage that, being an actuary. You'd think he'd calculate the risks before, you know? So, I've got wise to that only when he squandered the third million investing in dotcoms, and attempted to talk to him. Dad basically waved me off and told me to scamper along doing my kiddie stuff while adults handle adult stuff. Next day he goes and squanders another two millions. I mean, losing three millions over a year of play is semi-sorta understandable at stock market. But just tossing two big ones to the wind in one day... Lord, did I ever got pissed off. I went at him, yelling and demanding he stop squandering MY money. He yelled back at me about being the man in the house. He followed that with "my way or highway" threat. But I was so pissed I just told him "highway, then", and skipped town before he understood I'm serious.  
- Huh. So you just gave up your money, then?  
- Uh, not quite. See, I'm not twenty one, but I'm over eighteen. So I can't access trust funds yet, but dad also can't act in my lieu now that I'm an adult. As long as I lived with my parents, he had access to funds, but once I left, he got cut off. Basically, I'm just biding time till I'm twenty one, at which point dad just can't lay his hand on my money anymore without my express consent... Which he ain't gonna get, by golly.  
- Right. And what if he comes a-knockin' on the door one bright morning?  
- He's got to find me first. And even if he does, what of it? He can't force me to come back home now that I'm an adult. Worst he can do is to yell at me or attempt something illegal, and even as stubborn as he is, he's not likely to actually go for my money in illegal ways. He's probably not going to forgive me till the end of his days, but I can live with that.  
- Huh. That's pretty cynical of you, Ron.  
- Eh... I suppose hanging out with KP saving the world desensitized me a bit. I mean, KP's always bending over backwards to do what she thinks is the right thing, but other people... Especially ones we're usually called to help out. I've seen quite a lot of sick crap in that line of work. Well, not enough to make me do it too, but enough not to feel too broken up about world not being fair.  
- Join the club. Speaking of sick crap, you're aware that you're a prime choice for every primadonna who wants to marry into money, right?  
- Which is why I don't exactly advertise I'm going to be rich in less then two years.  
- What, gold diggers ain't your type?  
- Are they anyone's type? Marrying out of greed... Just what kind of wife that would be? No, thanks.  
- Aw, and here I was about to throw the bathrobe away and seduce you.  
- ...Please tell me you're kidding.  
- ...Sheesh. Of course I am.  
- Phew.  
- ...What? Why so relieved, Ron? Don't think I'm attractive, eh?  
- Uh... Permission to speak frankly?  
- Granted.  
- You're gorgeous. But it just ain't right if it's for money. If I'd wanted bought love, I'd go and pick up a prostitute.  
- Huh. That's pretty damn cynical of you, Ron. And that does mean something, considering I'm saying this for the second time already.  
- Look, money is money. If I'd be using that to buy me some lovin', I'd get a professional. A bang for my buck, you know? But if it's not what I'm after, whole thing about girl marrying me for my money is kinda silly for me.  
- Supposedly, marriage for money brings you more then just sex, you know.  
- I can't think of anything else, to be honest.  
- Connections, for example. Or loyalty.  
- Connections are not my kind of deal. I don't know jack in all the politicking stuff, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to. As for loyalty... How does that even work? I can't really imagine a girl marrying for money to be any kind of loyal.  
- Heh. Well, that's rarer then politicking, yes. But also happens. Sometimes, a poor girl marries into money to sustain her family. Sometimes, rich parents "buy" a poor but relatively honest prostitute to fill in as their son's wife... When said son is damaged goods. There are other cases too. Ostensibly, such marriages for money are among most stable.  
- Ugh. I prefer not to think about that kind of stuff too much. And anyway, I'd rather just help out in that case rather then deal with whole marriage. Stable or not, it's just... just ain't right.  
- You're romantic type, aren't you? Waiting for your one and only to marry?  
- ...I'm not sure.  
- Not sure? That ought to be interesting. Spill the beans.  
- I thought I was. But things just don't seem to work like that. I mean, I've been lovestruck about KP once, but what did that got me? Besides heartache and cynical attitude, I mean?  
- So what's your opinion on love, then?  
- Well, I dunno... Probably, someone you can live with, who can accept your shortcomings and who's shortcomings you can accept. Stuff like that.  
- By that logic, we're prime choice for next wedding, Ron.  
- Er, not that literal. I mean, not that I wouldn't... Er... Uh... Let me start over, please?  
- Snrk.  
- Right. I mean, you and... uh... em... Er...

Ron stumbled for words again, his face going redder as he failed again to express his opinion. Watching his wild gesturing and enthusiastic but nigh incomprehensible attempts to explain, Bonnie decided to take pity on him.

- I think I got what you're trying to say. Yes, there's nothing wrong about the idea of marrying me, but we're discussing generic situation, not specifically us. And yes, speculating about you marrying me is a little silly and we shouldn't be doing that, considering it can only lead to further awkwardness.  
- YES! Phew, thank you. I mean, I'd definitely marry you, if we were in relationship, but we're not, so... Er...I just put my foot in mouth, didn't I?  
- A little. But it's flattering you do consider me a good marriage material, so I'll let that slide for this time. Heh. Now... tea?  
- Oh, crud!

Twisting around, Ron grabbed for the kettle and looked inside. Then sighed with relief, and poured scalding water into the teapot, soaking the green tea leaves within. Setting kettle back on the stove, he began to set the table for breakfast... Which would double as lunch as well, courtesy of the long talk they just had.

* * *

It's been well over a year now, Bonnie mused morosely as she studied the papers on the table before her. Director's assistant behind her fidgeted audibly, unsettled by her actions earlier, apparently. She supposed that legal threats could make people jumpy indeed, but she could care less for their discomfort right now. Papers did not match her. But they did match someone else... Someone Bonnie had grown to loathe from the very crib.

- ...What does that mean?  
- What, this? Well, it's pretty delicate procedure. I'm not sure how to explain it in layman terms without perverting the actual meaning, but...  
- Enough of weaseltalk. To quote from textbook - "invasive cessation of malicious and benign growth in vaginal cavity". It's a blanket term for abortion, isn't it?  
- Ma'am! I'm offended you could possibly!...  
- Is it, or isn't it? Weather or not I'll be filing a lawsuit is hinged on your answer, so think fast.  
- ...Aagh... It could be.  
- So it is. Very well, I thought that much. Is the description of patient correct?  
- We do not make such mistakes, ma'am.  
- Good. If it so happens that papers are genuine and accurate, I will not pursue legal action against clinic. But, heh, if it so happens that you lied to me, gave me wrong papers or any other skulduggery, better contact your lawyers and tell them you're being sued for identity theft and libel.  
- Ma'am, I assure you of our full support and cooperation. If any wrongdoing was committed, it was not by this clinic or our associates.  
- Fine. I need a copy of all medical files under my name.  
- All of them? But...  
- Yes, all of them. Should it so happen that you won't provide me with copies, I'll have police with subpoena orders a-knockin' on your door next morning.  
- ...There's no need to involve police in this. If you'll give me fifteen minutes, I'll procure copies for you.  
- Five. And I'm well aware what papers should be present, so if you're planning on "forgetting" something... Well, heh, forget it.  
- ...Ma'am, if you please stop insinuating...  
- Insinuating? I believe I'm being as blunt as a brick to the face. Yes, I have zero trust for you and it's not likely to change, considering the topic at hand. You might either deal with this to get over with whole business quickly and painlessly, or you can keep stalling me - in which case clinic, and by extension you personally, becomes scapegoat. Simple enough?  
- Look, I know whom I'm dealing with here, alright? And I know what I'm dealing with, as well. So right now, I want this whole ordeal out of my hair once and for all. You Rockwallers can settle your feuds without our participation, thankyouverymuch. All I want is enough plausible deniability to stay out of this debacle.  
- ...Fair enough. Tell you what - if you give me the all copies right here and now, you're not going to see me or hear from me ever again.  
- Music to my ears. Here, this is a complete copy of all the red tape regarding your case that we have. Includes everything, up to laundry bill for medical gown used.  
- Heh. Good. ... Alright. I'm satisfied with those. If it makes you feel safer, this is a family issue, and it's not going to get out in public. So you keep mum on that one and we will too.  
- My thoughts exactly. Is there anything else I can...  
- No, not really. I'm going now. Remember... Silence is golden.  
- Ma'am, we're quite explicitly aware of that, considering our line of work. Goodbye.  
- MMhm. Farewell.

* * *

"M'lady?... Bon-bon?... Bonnie? BONNIE?" - gradually, brunette became aware of Ron calling out her name and shaking her by the shoulder gingerly. As she focused her gaze on him, Ron grinned - "Phew... Are you alright, Bon-bon? You've kinda spaced out on me here."

- I'm fine. Just... thinking.  
- Oh-uh. Is that something about your trip to hospital yesterday?  
- ...Sort of, yes. I think I found out who was in clinic under my name.  
- Really? So who was it?  
- I think it was Connie. Dammit.  
- ...Whoa, whoa, whoa! Connie, as in Connie Rockwaller, your older sister? That Connie?  
- Yes.  
- Holy jumping jalapeno on vegan tacos!... That's... Uh. I don't know what else to say.  
- Heh. Don't worry about it. I'm pissed off, but that's about it. Just prepare something sweet and foamy for the supper, and I'll be alright, mmhm?  
- Er. Sure thing. I've been fixing to prepare souffle sometime soon, to tell the truth. But, um, are you sure it's... you.. you know. It's still kinda your family, I mean, and... Um.  
- Yay. Maybe I should also employ you as psychoanalyst, Ron?... Look, leave this topic be, if you know what's good for you. Yes, Connie is my sister, but blood relationship is just about the closest bond we share. I've suspected that either she or Lonnie had been deeper involved in this crap for a while now, so those papers don't surprise me much. In the end, that might just be a blessing in disguise.  
- Er, why?  
- ...Oh, for... For the same reason you don't stay with your folks! Because right now, I'm flat-out untouchable to them, and that suits me just fine. I have a cozy house, I've just made my third million, and I employ one of the best chefs in the city as my personal manservant - any way you slice that, it sure beats home sweet home with absentee dad, obliviotic mother and two sisters hell-bent on robbing me of all good in my life!

Bonnie slammed her shaking fist on the table, and sighed deeply, dropping her head over her arm. It did hurt. She felt cheated. Life is a pact between parents and child, for crying out loud. Yet her parents simply weren't showing any interest in actually upholding the pact they've authoritatively signed on - her birth certificate. Her eyes stung, and she felt her ire rising. She so did not need crying on top of everything!

Ron approached her from behind quietly. He felt like going to kitchen initially, but then his gut told him to stick around. His gut was right this time, it looked like. Seeing as he still could not find any words that didn't sound insensitive even to himself, he resorted to quiet supportive action - namely, putting his hand on Bonnie's shoulder. He expected Bonnie to shrug off his hand, like Kim usually did, and wisecrack about something, but she didn't. That threw blonde off the rut. Apparently, Bonnie did feel upset, he decided a moment later, keeping his arm wrapped around Bonnie's shoulders as she nuzzled into his apron.

Bonnie sighed. She would definitely have to give Ron a raise for putting up with her moods, she decided, as she pressed her face in his stomach, letting her tears of frustration soak into his apron. Although admitting that wasn't exactly easy for Bonnie, she did acknowledge that she had grown quite fond of Ron as a person while he was her manservant. Quite fond indeed, she groused mentally as she kept her face hidden in apron, using him as a pillow to cry on like that. Like he was her husband or some...thing... Wait, what?

Ron wasn't really sure what to do. He went with gut instinct again, stroking Bonnie's hair slightly and muttering something not particularly coherent, but reassuring and supportive. And then she suddenly looked up. He looked down. Then, he broke the kiss gently to catch some air... WHAT?

Bonnie wasn't sure what possessed her to kiss Ron, especially in a way like that. Instinct, possibly. Nonetheless, that was one of the fireworks going off kind of kisses, and she was quite aware, at least theoretically, what it could possibly mean. Though, on more detailed examination, the idea of falling for her manservant didn't seem all that bad to her. Apparently, he wasn't in any hurry to object, if dazed expression was of any indication.

- So...Um.. Souffle?  
- ..Oh. Right... On it... not that I'll ever make something nearly as sweet as this...

Following Ron with her eyes, Bonnie chuckled quietly. Blushing and dazed, he was definitely smitten. As she turned to get up, she glanced across the mirror. Well, by golly, if her own blush wasn't just as strong... Gulp.

* * *

It's been two days since the kiss. Bonnie felt no urge to bring up the subject of it with Ron, yet. Let him stew a bit, soak up the courage, she surmised. For her own part, Bonnie reviewed her inner dossier on Ron, and came to a conclusion that kiss was a Good Thing, TM. Shuffling papers, she sorted out her thoughts along with old bills and outdated documents.

Financially, Bonnie was always a success. Especially so, nowadays. Like a patient spider weaving a web, she covered most of city businesses with her influence. Now, the hard work was mostly over - just patching up the web here and there per necessity, and money kept flowing into her purse, only to spread across the web again, and return threefold.

Personal life could use some improvement, though. In the last year and half, she had barely any time to just hang out. If it was social outing, it was something business-related. Lately, though, she began to grow weary of it. Perhaps, weary was too strong of a word, but she did desire more variety in her social life lately.

And thus, she moved forth with her new plan. Moving to Upperton. She planned to move into the city proper for a good while, by now - both her and Ron were city dwellers by nature, and remote suburb tended to be oppressive in terms of commute and communication, at times. Besides, she could definitely afford something fancier, right now.

To move forth with that plan, she had negotiated a purchase of penthouse on one of Upperton highrises. A costly investment, but a very important one. She had carried out that task in secrecy. Surprised Ron looked pretty cute, all things considered, if nothing else. Come next week, it would be possible to move to new penthouse, which right now was undergoing last minute decorations.

That left the matters of her heart to contend with. Analytically, Bonnie was quite aware of her lack of serious experience. High school shenanigans notwithstanding, Ron was the only serious attempt at cohabitation she ever made, besides family. Granted, it was by and large a successful attempt, but Bonnie was not sure. True, she felt quite ripe enough to get into some serious romancing. But why Ron? Because he happens to be conveniently close and accessible?

Kicking back, brunette closed her eyes, mulling over her options. Keeping up Scrooge routine was out of question - ruthless moneymongering had lived past it's time of usefulness. Bonnie did intended to live it up a little, after all. What's the point in being rich, if not partaking in finest what riches can offer?

However, she felt distinctly uneasy attempting to imagine herself flirting with people left and right. Time for frivolousness had come and gone. What's acceptable for a teenager not knowing better would not be so good for woman in her twenties. Noone in their right mind would expect teen to follow up on sexually-charged teasing - not quite true for adult. Get classier in flirting? Well, that meant to hint about the desire to start a family. Which might make it necessary to part with Ron indefinitely. Not acceptable!

Sitting up straighter, Bonnie rubbed her hand over her suddenly gurgling stomach. "Gah, when's dinner already?" - she muttered distractedly, as she struggled to keep her mind on the trail of thoughts. So... Ron? Well, maybe it is true about getting things right from the first try sometimes.

* * *

Bonnie had been quite distracted lately, distracted enough to make Ron wonder what was going on. He mulled it over as he went around with his usual daily routine of housekeeping. He kept mulling it over as he drove to Middleton Farmer Market. He continued his mullings as he strode across the crowded lot, browsing for appropriate produce. In all fairness, he liked buying at the actual live market. The atmosphere of life was palpable here, a stark contrast to immaculate chill of supermarket shelves. Not to mention the possibility to haggle a bit.

As he looked through the bin of eggplants, selecting the few that passed the muster, he kept mulling over the situation in his mind. That rumination continued, as he selected carrots, picked up a quart of walnut oil and, after a long deliberation, determined the best cut of mutton to purchase.

He knew he was not good with complex concepts, so his rumination revolved around breaking the tight wad of issues into small snippets and squaring them away one by one. Bonnie had kissed him. Or he had kissed Bonnie. Or... Anyway, the kiss happened. It looked like it was a mutual thing. Ron found the kiss delicious. He squared it away as a Good Thing, TM. Did Bonnie liked it? She did not object.

She did not mind it, probably, he decided, as he hefted half-stone bag of rice and tote it back to his car trunk. But did she liked it? He had no idea. Bonnie did not mention the kiss in three days. Neither in good nor in bad way. Maybe she wanted to think it never happened?

Or maybe she wanted him to say something on the matter? But that would be silly. She's the boss lady, it's her decision to make, decided Ron, as he slammed the trunk shut, and started his long trek back home.

* * *

- You what?...  
- I sold this house, yes.  
- Oh, man! This tanks. So, uh, what are we going to do now? I mean, why did you even... It's not like you're in some kind of lurch for ca... or, um, are you... or not?.. Um... Help?  
- Worrywart much, Ron? Well, I wanted to keep this a surprise, but you seem to be quite on the edge, so... No, I'm not selling house to get money. I'm selling it because I bought a nicer one, and we're moving.  
- Oh! Yeah, well, that takes the edge off my mind for sure, yeah. Phew. I was spooked silly.  
- Oh, please.  
- No, I'm serious. I like things just fine the way they are, and... Eh.  
- What's up? You don't want to move?  
- Er, not like this. I... Eh, it's silly.  
- Well, spill the beans. We've got half an hour to kill till movers will be here.  
- Right. Half-hour... Er, it's like... I don't mind moving, but I'm kind of wary about big changes. I mean, I like, have my life settled out here, I'm loving it, so why change anything?  
- Yeah, I get where you're coming from. But things change regardless of whether you want it or not. For example, in two months you're gonna be twenty one.  
- Oh.  
- Yep. You're about to become richer then me again, Ron.  
- Huh, that's... weird.  
- Oh, I'm sure you've learned enough by now not to flub your new high-rolling life, no? I'm gonna miss your meals, to be honest.  
- About that... Bonnie, would you mind if I just kinda-sorta keep being your cook or something?...  
- Huh. Well, I'm pretty sure I won't mind, but what about you? You're going to be rich again, why'd you want this job? S'far as jobs for millionaires go, it's pretty lousy one.  
- Well, I told you already, I think. I like things as they are. Why should money change anything?  
- Well, for starters, millionaire working a menial job usually taken by low-income people tends to attract IRC attention. Because it smells surprisingly like tax evasion. Second, people will wonder what keeps you on this job... And even though you might just like it here, a good deal of people would drop that job cold and buy themselves Rolls-Roys, mansion and Lear jet first thing off after getting access to multimillion fortune. And they're not going to understand why won't you do that without some dark dark secrets confining you to kitchen.  
- Oh, man. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Can't I have it simple, for once?  
- Hrm. Well, actually, I think I do know rather simple solution for you.  
- Please tell me, then.  
- Well, you obviously need to drop this job as soon as you'll turn twenty one.  
- Aw, come on! What's going to go wrong with me once I hit the third decade?  
- I said job, Ron. I didn't mention anything about going away. If the title does not suit your status, it's way easier to change title, then status, you know. So, well... what would you say about stopping being my cook and becoming my boyfriend?  
- Your... who?... You're pulling my leg.  
- Naw, I'm serious.  
- I... I'd love to, but... WHY? Why'd you want me to be your boyfriend?  
- I'm not bloody likely to find someone better then you, for once. And yes, this is a compliment.  
- Thanks, I guess?  
- No problem.  
- But seriously, why me? S'not like there aren't cooler guys then me out there. I thought you might have a thing going on with one or two of them banker types, actually.  
- Nah, not really. Look, Ron. When all is said and done, I'm a rational kind of person. Just like you, I don't trust the whole "love from the first sight" thing, and besides that, I don't have much in common with "banker types", as you put it. Those who are in my age bracket are all rich brats, and that alone reminds me of my sisters too damn much to keep trying. Really, just ask yourself this - how are you not fit for this? I failed to answer that, by the way.  
- Wow, thanks. But this is going to change everything...

Shaking head, Bonnie stood up from the chair and opened bag of last minute supplies, fishing out a bottle of water. She took a long sip, then corked it again, offering water to Ron. He accepted and drank some as well, while Bonnie settled back on the chair. Crossing her legs, Bonnie began her explanation - "Ok, listen to me for a while, Ron, OK? Why I think it's going to work? Because we've been living together for over a year. Because now I'm quite sure I won't find you insufferable to live with. Also, because I've kissed you last week, and liked it. So it's pretty logical I'd consider dating you by now. And no, I don't really want things to change. I like it as is just as much as you do. So, well, nothing changes besides giving you the liberty to steal a kiss every now and then... And other dating stuff every once in a while. This is where I'm coming from."

Ron leaned back in chair, and nodded, prompting Bonnie to continue. He was not sure about how to react to this, so far, and thus, was perfectly willing to let Bonnie do the talking. From one point of view, he could not argue the simple fact that Bonnie was attractive to him. In a lot of different ways. From other, he could not get around the feeling of ironic serendipity of it all. If things were really as simple as that... Then he would scream. So much effort, doubt, consideration and random chance to overcome only to be thrust into sheer simplicity. Just like that. Matter of fact, simple "I like you". Sweet and to the point, an offer he couldn't refuse.

Bonnie continued with her explanation - "I'm going to be frank here - I'm not looking for high school brand of dating here, Ron. We're a bit too old for that. And yes, I'm pretty sure I sound awkward explaining all this, but I still have hard time wrapping my mind around the simplicity of it all, so bear with me, please." She paused slightly, nodding with satisfaction as she saw Ron react with recognition to the topic of simplicity.

"...Well... I don't really know what to say, Bon-bon. I mean, it's so simple... And well. Uh... I've never expected things to be as simple as that. All that..." - whatever he meant to say was never finished, as Bonnie suddenly appeared on his lap, seemingly out of nowhere, and silenced him with a long slow steamy kiss. Time stopped.

* * *

"This is badical!" - Ron's verdict was quite abundantly positive, as he surveyed his new kitchen. At first, he was appreciative about the fact their new domicile was a penthouse, but that faded away as soon as he took a look from inside. Stretching her legs on the couch, Bonnie grinned, as she listened to Ron's jubilation. A lot of thought and care went into selecting this penthouse. A bit smaller then their previous house in suburbs, it was on the top of third highest highrise in Upperton and offered unparallelled view over the Tri-city.

In all fairness, Bonnie felt she earned some right for jubilation as well. Newfound certainty about her romantic life had taken a lot of weight off her shoulders - weight she was not completely aware of until it lifted. Of course, it would take a song and dance to get somewhere with that, but she could afford to take it slow - all preparations were accounted for.

Most of unpacking was done by movers already, but Bonnie still had to settle her personal effects into their rightful places. She had taken over the master bedroom, distributing her makeup, clothes and various little knick-knacks she grew fond of, done with the pleasant arduousness of task just recently. Ron had settled into what was by design a guest room. She intended to relegate this room to be guest room again, once it would be reasonable to just share master bedroom with him.

First things first, however. Sex could wait. Neither Ron nor she would've benefited from such abruptness - desire for stability shared by both demanded to move cautiously, one step at a time. Besides, why not? There was plenty of time to get through the process of getting intimate.

* * *

View was unparallelled. Especially today, Bonnie thought. September rain had shaded Tri-city with a gray shimmering haze, washing off the heat and bustle of summer. Granted, it would be quite unpleasant to be caught in such a downpour, but she had nothing to fear, settled cozily on the rocking sofa under awning on their "porch". Actual elevator opened inside the penthouse, of course, but a good portion of roof was occupied with a hanging garden of sorts, complete with minipool. In a flair of typical randomness, Ron had taken over the gardening, filling hydroponic flowerbeds with different spices, exotic aromas permeating whole area.

Speaking of whom, Ron had just arrived with a trey in his hands. Settling it down on the table in front of sofa, he sat down next to Bonnie, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders tenderly. He was still in awe about the liberties allowed to him, and could not help but approach the topic gingerly. Quietly, she snuggled closer, resting her head on Ron's shoulder. At first, both were silent but then she finally opened her mouth.

- ...I've met Lonnie today in the spa.  
- Oh. Is everything OK?  
- ...Well. Yes. Sort of.  
- Bon-bon?... You can tell me.  
- ...I know. I'm just... floored, I guess.  
- What happened?  
- She had no money to pay the entrance fee with.  
- Come again?  
- Her credit card bounced. I had the misfortune of crossing the lobby just as she was yelling at the hostess.  
- Oh. And?  
- And she told hostess that I'll cover her bill. I'm not sure if I should be awed or disgusted about such audacity.  
- You didn't...?  
- Of course, not. I told them I don't know that woman and certainly have no intention of extending my VIP privileges on her. Lonnie's expression was priceless.  
- Well, that's fair, I think. She did cause you to run away from home, after all, along with Connie.  
- Well, yeah, that's a given. But I'm more of floored by the fact that Lonnie apparently assumed I would actually pay for her.  
- That's nuts.  
- Duh, Captain Obvious. It's crazy idea. For you, for me, for just about any rational person. It made sense for Connie somehow, though. It's as if she genuinely perceived me as some sort of commodity at her full disposal. Thankfully, security removed her fast enough, I almost lost my temper. Ugh.  
- Well, that's over with, right?  
- Hopefully. But damnit, I want to march over to the mansion, grab the stupid bitches by hair and beat their faces against the table till they beg me to stop. Argh.  
- Well, we can arrange that, but would it really soothe your temper for long? I'm thinking only their confession would put the lid on this whole thing... And that's not likely to happen if you beat them senseless, right?  
- ...Huh. You'd really arrange for me to commit assault and battery?  
- Well, I do think that Connie and Lonnie deserve it. If it'd help anyone, I'd help, yeah.  
- Heh. Thanks, Ron. That's kinda sweet, in a mean creepy way.  
- Oi. Some people just need to be strongarmed. Being civilized is all cool and nifty, but then some jerk wrecks your life for fun, it suddenly loses appeal, yanno? It just makes my blood boil when I think of it.

Grinning, Bonnie leaned up and kissed Ron, silencing his indignant exposition. Not that he really minded. A few minutes and more then a few kisses later, they resumed their places on sofa, snuggling together. After a few moments of silence, Bonnie ventured again.

- Enough of them, dear. Let's talk about you instead. Getting ready for your twenty-first birthday?  
- Yeah. I'm not expecting anyone besides you, though.  
- What about your high school friends?  
- Well, Kim might drop by, I suppose. Wait, no, she does not know where I am. She'll phone probably. Wade never leaves his room, he's agoraphobic. So phone too for him. Felix is in Detroit right now, working with Elive team. So phone for him as well, I think.  
- Oh. That's all? I thought you knew more people.  
- Well, I do, but most of others are even further away, or don't know me well enough to remember it's my birthday in two weeks. Besides, I kinda gone hermit when I moved in with you.  
- I've been meaning to ask you about that, by the way.  
- I... Well, frankly speaking, you're the best that happened in my life. When I just met you in the bar, I've been on the run from family, and didn't want anyone knowing where I am. After that, well... I kind of grew to like living with you so much I just didn't want anyone to interfere with that.  
- Huh. Weren't you worried people might go look for you?  
- Oh, I contacted Wade pretty soon. He's a swell guy, actually. He understands. Anyway, he kept the heat off me.  
- Wade? Isn't that the kid that helped Kim with her little website?  
- Yeah, that's him. For a guy who's afraid to leave the room, he sure knows a lot of people. Anyway, yeah. He helped me to get the word around that I'm settled comfortably and looking for my place in the world or some such. Guess he was spot-on, huh?  
- Mmrm. Sounds like it, yeah. What about Felix?  
- Ex-Net, doi! We're top duo in Zombie Apocalypse Online. Gotta keep the cred.  
- You and your games.  
- A man needs some pointless hobby, no? I have to have some pointless time in my day, otherwise I go a little nuts with practicality.  
- Like our little garden of exotics, here?  
- ..Er. Um, well, yeah. It took a while to transfer the account to different provider, heheh.  
- Though to be honest, I liked the idea. Growing your own spices is kind of nifty.  
- Huh. Really?  
- Well, sort of. Don't get me wrong - if you'd be growing greens here to avoid buying them, I'd say you're nuts. But spices... Well, that's a little different. Correct me if I'm wrong, but at least half of those can't be obtained off the shelf in supermarket, no?  
- Well... Yeah, pretty much all of them. Picked most of those back when I pulled full hours at team Possible, heh. By the way, thank you again for persuading me to ninja my way into my old room. I haven't realized how much I missed some of my mementos till I got a hold of them again.  
- Well, you did retrieve my dear possessions from mansion as well, remember?  
- Oh, yeah. Gotta hand it to you - you've showed top class sneakiness back there. Though I wonder why you wanted to leave the cane.  
- I don't quite feel I have the right for it, yet, dear. It's Jebediah Rockwaller's cane, and it formally belongs to the head of family. So, yeah, it's just not right for me to take it.  
- Come on. If anyone deserves it, it's you.  
- Ron, honey. Deserving has nothing to do with it. This cane is a part of Rockwallers' heritage. Jebediah had the grit and mettle to found the family, and cane is a symbol of being Rockwaller first and foremost. Until such time I'll regain control of family, I'm not going to take it. It would be a misnomer to the history of Rockwallers.  
- Until? Ah, I get it now. It's not about deserving it, it's about it being the trophy you're after, right?  
- ...Astute, Ron. Very astute. I'm impressed.  
- Well, yeah, Ron-man has his moments. But seriously, what do you plan to do? I mean, beside wishing to put your sisters through meat grinder?  
- To put it simply, the influence of Rockwallers was always rooted in money and finances. My dad is one of the power players in the state. So what I want is to be on equal standing with him, or have an upper hand, when it comes to confrontation.  
- You aren't going to drive your family to bankruptcy, are you?  
- At first... I was planning on it, yeah. But the more I look into things, the less I want to do it this way. Considering what I found out about Connie and Lonnie, I began to think that my father was really unaware about the real situation, and my credit card was swiped by Lonnie, who lied to me about dad taking it then.  
- Well, OK, so what are you planning?  
- I have enough of evidence to prove the issue with Lonnie and Connie, so I was planning to throw that into their faces. But to do that, I need to be influential enough to make it unavoidable for my father to meet with me in first place.  
- Well, uh, if it comes to that, we could've ninjaed that too, you know...  
- Not that kind of unavoidable, Ron. Not to mention that I'm iffy on the kidnapping idea in general. One thing is to take stuff that belongs to you on the sly, and another - to commit a capital crime, you know.  
- ...Er, sorry. I don't know what came over me.  
- Well, since you are so eager to go ninjaing... It just so happens I have a good spot in mind.  
- Oh? Lay it on sensei Ron, sugar.  
- Heh. Redline Medical, research and development campus. They're serious business, and they have serious security. Up to it?  
- R&D campus, eh? Well, that's a biggie. No good going in without a good plan.  
- Plans? You?... Alright, who are you, and what did you do with Ron?

Shaking his head bemusedly, Ron stood up and left for his room, coming back with a "mission briefcase", as he called it. It contained his simplistic planning tools and some odd knick-knacks that were employed in obscure ninjaesque ways. Already used to that routine, Bonnie in the meanwhile plucked what data she had about the heist she was planning for Ron. Soon enough, they had settled down for planning the daring deed.

- Alright, sugar... Your target is archive in the basement. We need to procure some documents that were, ahem, "misplaced" there.  
- Archive, huh? Well, it seems like the best way is through the trash chute here. Yuck.  
- Sorry. They have skeleton security on weekends, due to whole campus being locked down, so you'll have to think up the way to infiltrate the plaza first.  
- Oh, easy enough. Here, at this place.  
- Why here?  
- A good nook to approach. You'll set the van here, and I'll be able to clear the fence off the van's roof.  
- Right. OK, so you cross here. Then what?  
- I sneak around this building here and come out near the maintenance gates. There, I get to the second floor through trash chute here, and backtrack downstairs to the archive. Building should be empty, and if not, I'm packing knockout gasbombs.  
- And what do I do?  
- You keep on moving by the campus and on the highway ramp here. Half a mile down the road, you descend by this ramp to Griffin road, and backtrack down Griffin road to the intersection with Fourth Avenue here, then past the campus here. I'll be waiting for pickup here, at this spot. Getaway's going to be messy, there's no way I can make it back out without tripping the perimeter security, so I'm blowing the hole in fence here as you approach. You pick me up, then turn here to Suffolk road through this alley. It's not likely they'll be able to stage a car chase, and we'll be ditching the van in Lowerton West, where it'll change several owners and layers of paint by next week.  
- OK. So what happens if you drop the ball?  
- I'll tap the alarm button, so you'd keep on driving. Then you avoid driving by campus, and instead, beeline for Lowerton West drop spot here. I'll be getting out by my ninja mojo, in which case we'll rendezvous here in our apartment, once I'll be sure noone is tracking me down. Could be a day or two, I guess.  
- And if I drop the ball?  
- You tap the alarm and we use same contingency plan, except for car drop in Lowerton.  
- OK. Do you expect five minutes would be enough?  
- Yeah, provided document is where it is. If it's not, I'll check the obvious alternatives, then make the getaway as normal. If it's not found, I guess your information is faulty and we'll need to devise a better plan a month or two down the line.  
- Speaking of which... We need audit and all reports pertaining to PHA-NSAID-COX2 testing. Since it's not feasible to do this completely unnoticed, you'll have to pick more files on random to throw the investigation off. To make sure it IS thrown off well enough, do pick data on BIOml-VARI. That's research into weaponised smallpox - sounds like a good choice for a would-be terrorist to pick, no? With the recent anthrax scares, people are going to eat it up.  
- Er... What would we do with that?  
- Burn? Alternatively, shred first, then burn.  
- Mm. Well, that's what I'd do with bioweapon research myself, yeah. But won't that cause unnecessary repercussions? I mean, on the whole, not to us personally. I don't quite think country needs another anthrax scare or the like.  
- Precisely why it has to be smallpox research. Seeing as smallpox is eradicated worldwide already, it's not going to be much of a scare. Documents on it's own ain't contagious, and there is not a lot one can do without a sample of actual virus to work with.  
- But there is definitely some of that on the campus somewhere.  
- You're not going to snag it too, now are you?  
- Well... no, I had not planned on it.  
- Same here. Actually... Can you cause a diversion at this building?  
- ...Diversion? What kind of diversion?  
- Well, something that attracts attention. Gas one of the guards obviously near it, or something like that.  
- That's the biochem lab, right?... Oh, I see. You want people to think someone was targeting smallpox, but fubared the attempt and had to leave with just documentation and random junk they snagged to confuse investigation?  
- Uh-huh.  
- ...I've said it before, and I'll say it again - you're a first-class sneak, Bon-bon. That's prime cut ninja planning right here, yeah.  
- Why, thankee.  
- Well, it seems we're all set, then... Hrm, wait. What is our real target? I mean, what's in those documents that we're really after?  
- Oh. That's research into new type of analgesics - COX-2 inhibitors. My dad invested serious moolah into that research.  
- Wait, wait a second. I thought you said you're not going to drive him to bankruptcy?  
- I'm not. Research flopped, you see. There were some pretty promising results, but later head researcher publicly announced that results were faked by industrial saboteurs. FDA immediately pulled the COX-2 drugs off the shelf. So, basically, dad lost a few millions worth of investments on that.  
- Mhm. That definitely sounds fishy.  
- Yep. I want to see the data with my own eyes. Redline Medicals is currently negotiating with Vitaflux International, and I have a nasty suspicion, that they're negotiating the rights to manufacture and sell COX-2 drugs.  
- But FDA pulled them off the shelves already, didn't they?  
- Yeah, they did - because it was not properly tested, according to head researcher. Vitaflux can stage their own "testing" and market same stuff under different names which would be already FDA-approved. Redline Medicals gets fat kickbacks, everyone happy... Well, except for my dad, who is thus swindled out of serious money.  
- ...Mmm. Right. So what do you expect to find in documents?  
- If what I suspect is right, then sabotage was not in the testing, but in the announcement of head researcher. Rabenholtz seems a bit too shrewd to let sabotage happen as it was presented to general public. There are also some inconsistencies in the whole deal. He's a shareholder in Vitaflux as well... So it's possible he had sabotaged the production to make it easy for Vitaflux to acquire exclusive rights for it's manufacturing.  
- Ok, and if he did? Stolen documents don't hold much weight in court.  
- No need for that. Anything in this archive is backed up electronically, so all that dad would have to do is to start a lawsuit quietly and send in people to subpoena the archives.  
- And they won't destroy or fake the archives after our little escapade?  
- We're staging the diversion to begin with. Second, destroying archive is out of question. Without archived data, Redline has nothing to give Vitaflux.  
- What stops them from putting forged data in the archive to make it look like it was sabotaged as claimed?  
- Results were already announced. Anyone with a few millions to spare can reproduce the tests, and come to same conclusions as announced. All hinges on the announcement that tests were faked. With complete data that lists all the participants of the testing, it becomes simple matter of interviewing them to prove that tests were actually carried out.  
- ...Holy crap in a hat. This... Ravenhold, he's really got brass balls to bullshit everyone like that and get away with it.  
- Guess we'll have to see just how brass his balls are then, no? Be sure to pack the sledgehammer, just in case.  
- ...EEsh. Bad mental image here.

* * *

Low light from the dashboard barely illuminated speedometer. Bonnie sorely wished they could've used something newer - clutch was giving her troubles. Unfortunately, newer van would be easier to trace. Whereas this one would disappear within Lowerton traceless as soon as the job would be done. She glanced on her Swiss watch, making sure she was approaching the intended spot exactly according to the schedule. Near light did not illuminate the chain-link she was driving by, so she only had her sense of time to go on. She notched down speed a little - to the side observer it would look merely as a precaution, clearing unpleasant turn in low light. That was partially true, but Bonnie was picking up her boyfriend on this corner as well - and was all too painfully aware of very short loiter time she had.

She could not see anything. Her belt buckle did not rang the alarm yet, but she was about to press it down, to alert Ron that she already cleared the corner and he needs to escape on his own. As her hand reluctantly crept to her waist, it happened. A quick blue-orange flash of shaped charges, sharp metallic clang and screeching as the ripped part of chain-link scraped against the side of van. Still acting on autopilot, Bonnie's hand grasped her buckle, and then jerked to the door, as Bonnie regained grasp of situation. She was about to yank the door handle to throw it open, but instead, her hand grasped something else. A moment later, Bonnie realized that she's grasping the most sensitive part of Ron's anatomy through his pants.

"Aagh... Not that I mind, but can we make with getaway first, Bon-bon?" - Ron's whispered plea kicked in some gears in Bonnie's mind, her foot pressing down on the throttle, van suddenly accelerating out of dark corner, and down the street. Still trusting not her senses enough, Bonnie left her right hand where it was, grasping whatever it had, steering van into the narrow alley with left. Half a mile down the road, van had stopped. Ron hissed softly, his immense relief evident all over his face as Bonnie finally relaxed her right hand.

- ...Sorry, dear.  
- Mm... Well, no harm done.. I think. Do I sport any grey hair now, Bon-Bon?  
- Hrm... No, not that I can see. I'm really sorry about that. I wanted to open the door for you, and I kind of did not expect you to just materialize on the seat like that.  
- Well, I'm fine... Though that was probably the most tense five minutes in my life.  
- Oh, come on.  
- No, I mean it. I kinda lost the grip on the door when I climbed in, so if I'd happen to start falling out of the van, you'd be holding me only by... Eesh.  
- Wha...You mean to tell me I drove for half a mile with door swinging open?  
- ...Yeah.  
- Well, fuck. I hope noone noticed.

Reaching out, Ron doublechecked the door, nodding as he ensured it's properly closed now. Bonnie pressed down throttle again, steering van through the narrow alleys. They were moving through industrial zone between Middleton and Lowerton - all but abandoned by any life at night. Past the factories, dregs began, where they intended to ditch the van in preselected spot. It ought to be smooth sailing from now on. "Bon-bon?... Do you see what I see?" - asked Ron suddenly, thumbing out of his window. Tell-tale red and blue flashes on the wall of factory could mean only one thing - that a police cruiser is moving in parallel alley. Swearing under her breath, Bonnie swerved into the first parking place she noticed, killing the engine as soon as she cleared into the spot.

- Ron? Which way cruiser is heading?  
- ...Well... Darnit. It looks like it would make a turn ahead, and drive down our alley.  
- Crap, crap, crap! Cops just might stop to check who we are. They're going to recall our van, and compare notes tomorrow, when shit hits the fan.  
- Dammit. Maybe ditch it here?  
- No time. Strip.  
- ...What?  
- STRIP, I SAID!

Acting quickly, Bonnie threw her shirt off, leaving her bra hanging crookedly on one shoulder, and ripped Ron's open, leaning on his lap. Blonde understood the gist of plan, though he was still a bit too flabbergasted to do something when Bonnie wrapped her lips around the anatomy detail she gripped a little while earlier. His eyes rolling from sudden sensation, Ron let his hands fall on Bonnie's back, kicking back in his seat. Two seconds later, red and blue flashes approached the van, slowing down. Four seconds later, standard issue police flashlight knocked against the van window. Catching the glimpse of policeman's face out of the corner of his eye, Ron grinned. Rookie cop, just fresh from academy, it seemed. He allowed himself to grin for real and let out a soft groan, as Bonnie moved slightly, now profoundly amused by the look of shock on young officer's face. Red and blue flashes resumed their movement, accompanied by belly laugh issued by obviously much more jaded driver a second later.

A few seconds later, everything became dark again. Ron's fingers tapped Bonnie's shoulder softly. "They're gone, Bon-Bon. Good show." - he muttered quietly. She glanced upwards briefly, then smirked and resumed. His eyes bulged. He did not expect this. Expect or not, he was in for the ride, nonetheless.

* * *

Two days later, and Ron was still torn between his feelings and desires. Their nightly shenanigan went without a hitch, explicit activities notwithstanding. So that he was not worried about. His relationship with Bonnie worried him, however. This decisively sexual activity in the van that night was definitely beyond what they attempted so far, and he was not sure how to proceed. From one point, it was definitely Bonnie's idea, from beginning to the end. From other, he was worried that it was just in the heat of the moment, and things gone awkward. Just like before with the kiss, Bonnie mentioned nothing about that little but oh so pleasant incident. Good thing? Bad thing? Ron did not knew. But he was set on finding out. His insides turning into jello notwithstanding, he decided to confer with Bonnie on the matter. Luckily, opportunity was vast right now, Bonnie relaxing on the couch after scrumptious lunch. He approached gingerly, taking a seat near his girlfriend.

- Bon-bon? I kind of wanted to talk.  
- Mmhm?  
- Well... Uh, about us.  
- Go on, dear.  
- Well, I... Argh, this drives me nuts!... This... um, thing that night!  
- ...Oh, come on. It's no big deal.  
- It isn't?

Shaking her head, Bonnie sat up straighter, putting her hand on Ron's knee. She paused for a second, collecting her thoughts, then leaned to him, and kissed him gently.

- What are you worried about, Ron? As far as I'm concerned, both of us were quite ready to please each other in more... explicit ways then just making out, by now. Or, was it too soon for you?  
- Well... I don't know, that's the thing! I mean, I'm a guy, I... not like I could dislike that kind of thing. I'm just... I'm being a worrywart again, am I, Bon-Bon?  
- Kind of, dear. Though, I think I do understand what you're trying to say.  
- Really?  
- I think I do. Since you're so worked up about this, how about I explain things, and you tell me if I'm right or wrong?  
- Yes, p..please.  
- Heh. Well, I think you're worried about me. More of, that it was a heat of the moment thing, and now I'm regretting doing that with you. If so, I assure you, it is not quite so. It was a heat of the moment thing, yes, but I can attest that I have absolutely no regrets about it. If anything, I'm looking forward to try that again sometime.  
- Really?  
- Duh.  
- Well, crud. Now I feel like an idiot.  
- Oi vey.  
- ...GAH! Where did you learn that!  
- What, this Yiddish expression? I've heard you mutter that a time or two, so I looked up what does it mean. I guess I was bored that day. Though, to be honest, once I've learned the meaning, I've been completely charmed. Oi vey is mir. It's like... the pinnacle of irony.  
- You're too much at times, love.  
- ...Er. Same goes for you. Though... Mm, I love you too.

Further conversation had been abandoned in favor of extensive make-out session, by mutual consent and for mutual pleasure.

* * *

He blew out the candles and smirked, leaning to receive his "happy birthday" kiss from Bonnie. "Yeah, that was fun." - he admitted sheepishly, as he cut the cake - "Guess you were right that some things you can never grow out of." Bonnie merely smirked back, taking her share of cake. Ron's birthday so far was a success - for the two in attendance, that is. As Ron put it, it was "a very exclusive kind of gala". They weren't really expecting anyone, so a knock on the door started them both.

As they scrambled to investigate, Ron grew worried. Penthouse had no door to the outside - it had a lift. So whoever were knocking, they were coming from the roof. Which meant either serious people who meant serious trouble... Or Kim Possible, who might mean even more serious trouble. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bonnie taking cover behind her desk. Quiet creak of strongbox informed Ron of the fact that Bonnie was equally worried - i.e. worried enough to retrieve a weapon. He quietly crept towards the door, doing his best to determine the visitor. Familiar voice from outside brought caused them both to flinch - "Come on, people, open up. I know you're there."

Bonnie nodded at the door silently, her eyes taking on a hard glint as she leveled the barrel at the door squarely. Ron swallowed. By all accounts, it was Kim Possible knocking on their door, and he was not exactly sure what to do. From one hand, he definitely was not fond of Kim possibly wrecking his life right now. From other, he was not sure Bonnie wouldn't pull the trigger as soon as she caught Kim in her sights. So whom he trusted more not to be rash? Kim or Bonnie?

Reaching a decision, he stepped to the door, turned the knob and immediately threw himself flat off to the side, clearing line of sight for Bonnie, as the door opened. Indeed, there was Kim behind the door, who was not quite expecting being greeted at gunpoint.

- Hey, what's the meaning of this?  
- ...Funny, Possible. I was about to ask same.  
- Put that thing away right now.  
- Not until you explain what's your angle here.  
- I've came to visit Ron, sheesh!

Bonnie relaxed slightly, her finger slipping off the trigger, as she regarded their visitor. Still, entering through the roof wasn't particularly smart, she decided, as she snapped back - "There's a thing called front door. You might want to try that when you're visiting someone, Possible!"

Throwing her arms up theatrically, Kim stepped into the penthouse, closing the door behind herself cautiously. "Well, yeah, so I wanted to check up on Ron too. Is that forbidden, now?" - she offered, standing in the middle of the room. Ron, meanwhile, had moved off to the side. Having heard enough, he stood up, and shook his head bemusedly, replying - "KP, I'm kind of a big boy, now. I think I can take care of myself." Shaking her head in aggravation, Bonnie stood up as well, opening the strongbox again and returning shotgun inside it. "Well, seeing as you are here, Possible, I guess you may have a slice of cake as well." - she offered dryly, garnering surprised glances from both Ron and Kim. Redhead snapped out of her surprise first - "Don't mind if I do."

Soon enough, all three of them were seated around the table, savoring the cake Ron baked in the morning. Kim was first to break the silence - "Well, OK, I suppose I should apologize for sneaking up on you two. This all looks nothing like I've imagined it." Ron muttered - "I'm used to that kind of thing, KP. It's Bonnie who you should apologize to, I think." Bonnie wrinkled her nose, and waved her hand dismissively - "Let's say that I am not upset, and move on, alright? I'm much more interested in why exactly you're here, Possible."

Folding her arms, redhead sighed, and regarded both of her former classmates with bemused eye. "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to wish happy birthday to Ron in person?" - she offered. Ron shook his head, answering before Bonnie could - "Sorry, but nope, KP." Kim shot him a dirty look, but then sighed again - "I suppose I deserved that. But really, I just wanted to... Put things behind us, so to speak."

Bonnie and Ron exchanged wary glances. After a second of consideration, Ron nodded, silently ceding the lead of conversation to Bonnie. Brunette set aside her plate neatly, and picked up her cup of tea. "Go on, Possible." - she offered dryly. GJ agent did not expected this, and it was obvious by her suddenly awkward pose, as the ventured - "What, just like... that? You're not going to give me a piece of your mind or something?" After a deliberate pause, Bonnie shook her head - "Not until you explain yourself, at least." Ron added quietly - "It's not about just me and you, KP. Nor about you and Bonnie, either. It's about me and Bonnie... and you. So... go on."

"Well, then... I hope you're ready for a long speech." - offered redhead, taking a deep breath to continue - "First of all, I wanted to make amends with Ron. I realize now just how badly I blew it back in school, and... Well, I'm aware that you moved on, so I just want to make sure we're on speaking terms again. Second... No offense to either of you, but I've been pretty incredulous about you two cohabiting. I guess I just had to see it with my own eyes to let it sink in."

Bonnie tapped her fingers on the table, pondering, then nodded to Ron. First issue was with him, so it was his ball to play. Blonde looked slightly nervous, but nevertheless, took the charge in stride. "Well, KP... You're right, I moved on. I sure hope you did move on too." - he offered, - "As for speaking terms... We are speaking now, I guess?"

- I suppose. And yes, I did move on. Though probably not in the direction you'd want me to.  
- What do you mean, KP?  
- Well, I'm pursuing a career in GJ, currently. Last year was a real eye-opener, you could say. On a side note, would either of you know anything about what happened in Redline Medical R&D last month?  
- Er, what? Sorry, KP. Don't know nothing about that, no siree.  
- MM. That's a pity. GJ wants to issue informal commendations to whoever was there. That little scandal was just the right amount of push to finally make private smallpox research illegal. It's surprising how illegal actions made the world a better place, but there you go.  
- ...Alright, who are you, and what did you do with KP?  
- Heh. As I said, Ron, last year was really an eye-opener. I've learned... things. Learned to brake at corners, too.

Ron shot a glance back to Bonnie. His knowledge of Kim Possible was a bit outdated at the time, it seemed, so he chose to pass the buck to his much more shrewd girlfriend. Bonnie nodded, taking charge of conversation again.

- Career... That suggests you're calling shots, or will be eventually, isn't that so?  
- Kind of like that, yes. Dr. Director is retiring after New Year. They're primping me for her chair.  
- You're not so thrilled with the idea, I gather.  
- ...Damnit, you're good.

Kim sighed, covering her eyes with her hand for a moment. Then, she shook her head, and looked back at Ron, resolutely.

- It looks like my best bet is complete honesty, isn't it so?... Oh well. You two have security clearance anyway.  
- Me? Since then, Possible? I suppose Ron had to have clearance to participate in GJ's shenanigans, but since then it pertains to me?  
- Oi. Don't confuse clearance and need to know. You two are on the white list, aka considered dyed in the wool patriots. That means that you have clearance for anything that isn't marked "Top Secret" or scarier. As for need to know... Heh, I'm going to call this shot and say you have the need to know.  
- Go on.  
- GJ's on the brink of reforming. Me taking over Dr. Director's job might be merely a formality before the agency is dissolved altogether. There's a bit of in-house slander war going on at the moment, and I'm stuck right in the middle of it. So... checking up on Ron. It's not a secret we're no longer working together, but... Yanno. Some people would use all possible opportunities, no matter how flimsy.  
- And you're thinking Ron might be one of them... opportunities?  
- Sort of. More of, I needed to verify you weren't in cahoots with them.  
- Me? Why would I be involved?  
- Because the group who is seeking to dissolve GJ is backed up by financiers. A lot of people consider GJ to be solely american venture, despite it being international. DeBeers chaebol had been particularly vocal about it. They're backed by a good chunk of European moneybags, and some of our local moguls too. Seeing as Rockwallers do have business relationships with DeBeers, it was not out of question Rockwallers do back up dissolution of GJ as well.  
- Considering my current status as family cast-out, that would be hardly relevant.  
- Well, it's a long shot, yeah. But why act on a hunch, if I can verify it with you? And well, when all is said and done, I do worry about Ron too.  
- Worry about what, exactly?  
- ..Meh. You two will probably get pissed off, but... what the hell. I've been worried about Ron being forced somehow into cohabiting with you, Bonnie. Last time we've met you've been insufferable prat.  
- Duly noted. I'd like to remind that I had two tangible reasons to justify even blatant sociopathy.  
- That being your sisters?... Well, yeah, I've had the misfortune of meeting them. My condolences, if that's worth anything.  
- Now, that's interesting tidbit, Possible. Just how come you've met my sisters? Or, rather, how did you knew they were my sisters?  
- Oh, I have you to thank for that.  
- ...Me?  
- Yeah. Do you know that they reported you to GJ as a suspected terrorist?  
- ...WHAT?  
- That's what I've said. I mean, you've been a bitch in high school, sure, but terrorist? Nah, that's grade-a bullshit.  
- A compliment and insult in one sentence? Making me proud here, Possible.  
- Oi vey.

Ron let out a strangled sound, that could be either a sob or a chortle - hard to tell, really, with his head face-down on the table. His penchant for absurd situations never left him, it seemed. Girls cast a glance on him, then looked back at each other, resuming conversation.

- Back to our muttons, Possible. What the hell did they reported me in for?  
- Oh, that you're going to love. Their initial statement insinuated you are financing Al Queda through a set of cover-up enterprises. After I've interviewed them at length, that got downgraded to entrapment - leading them into imprisonment by arabs and then deserting them when ransom was demanded. Follow-up investigation and second interrogation, finally, revealed the final truth - that of you not footing Lonnie's bill at local spa.  
- Oh, for... I'mma murder goddamn bitches into the next millenium!  
- You might want not to espouse your plans for homicide in the presence of law enforcement officer, yanno.  
- Can it, Possible. Obviously enough, I don't plan on murdering them for real... At least, not in a way that would implicate me.  
- Wouldn't blame you, if you did. I've met lots of messed up people in my line of work, but your siblings are something else, let me tell you. If you put up with that your whole life, well, maybe you ought to apply for canonization - some of the official martyrs had it easier, I'd say.  
- Yeah, well, there's a reason why I don't see eye to eye with family, yanno.  
- I do, now. Sure wish I knew that back in high school, though. Lotsa things could've been different.  
- Yeah, well, ain't that too late for that?  
- That it is. But really, I'm sort of hoping we can at least be civil to each other now, without this... taint nearby.  
- Don't push me, Possible. I may be rid of sisters, but I'm still every inch the bitch you remember.  
- I'm aware. Look, it's not "gee, let's be friends now that I know about your traumatic childhood" kind of thing, I'm not that stupid anymore to try that. Look on this from this angle - you're a big-time player in finance. I'm in high position at law enforcement organization. Surely, we have mutually-profitable things to achieve together.  
- ...Kind of a loaded question, don'tcha think? - Sure is. But as the saying goes - risk nothing, gain nothing. If I am to gain anything but dead-end clerk job, I got to risk something. You, Rockwaller, is the most safe kind of risk I can take. Because you think about what you're doing, and because Ron's an extra insurance you keep straight and narrow... In a loose sense of it, heh.  
- MM. And what is my gesheft in this?  
- Well, let's see here. If GJ is dissolved, it's functions in US of A will be split between ANS, FBI and some other agencies. Me, I'm obviously getting my one-way ticket to blue stocking land and spend the rest of my life being government bureaucrat. Not too shabby, but not my dream life, yanno. But that's me. As far as your interests are going, you're going to run heads-first into DeBeers, who are currently trying to establish firm foothold in Tri-City. They were under GJ investigation more then a few times, and several DeBeers were arrested as well, so there's no secret why they are trying so hard to squish GJ. Currently, they're trying to do so under guise of this being business expansion - so they're targeting specific industries here in Tri-City. To the best of my knowledge, you don't own stock in anything DeBeers are targeting right now, but you DO own stock in several of the suppliers of GJ. Which will all be targets for hostile takeovers once DeBeers have foothold here.  
- So, to sum it up, if I don't side with you, I'll have to deal with DeBeers playing fast and loose in Tri-City, right?  
- Pretty much, yes.  
- Well, that's good and kosher, but I was asking what's my gesheft if I do side with you.  
- Oh, that? Simple enough. I give you insider info - as much as I can without compromising national secrets. You use that insider info to play fast and loose with assets DeBeers own here, likely turning a tidy profit. People here are undecided still, Bonnie, and name Rockwaller means a lot in these parts. They won't support DeBeers if you stifle them. You wreck enough of chaos on DeBeers campaign against GJ here, and that gives me enough time to finish internal investigations and settle some old scores within the organization.  
- And then what?  
- Well, that depends on how things turn out. Come on, I've laid clear enough cards on the table. Without me, you play blind against DeBeers and euros that support them. With me, you have a headstart and a drop on them too.  
- Humor me, will you? Let's suppose we route DeBeers back to Europe, and you get to be the chief of GJ which remains in force. What next?  
- Next? Next we live our respective lives. You get early warnings on tenders when GJ needs to procure something, I get reliable local supplier, we both profit in our respective ways.  
- I don't own much in military hardware manufacturing. What makes you think my supply will be in GJ's demand?  
- Are you kidding? You've cornered the market on alternative fuels. Oktabio is the new eight wonder of the world, currently. Imagine the sheer volume of PR on "GJ goes green" thing?  
- You...plan to fuel GJ's vehicles with octabio?  
- It makes lotsa sense, according to lab boys. Less emissions means stealthier engines to begin with. Another reason is... Well, politics. GJ employs a lot of helicopters. Recently, most of them were slated to be rotated out of use and replaced with brand new european diesel helicopters. You see where I'm going with this, don't you?  
- DeBeers lobbied their helicopters for GJ?  
- Not exactly theirs, Eurocopter is a separate company. But it just so happens that one of the major shareholders happened to have DeBeers as her maiden name.  
- Ah. So this is another way to hold you by the guts.  
- To a point, yes. but this is where a little matter of legislation came to my help. GJ is international, sure, but it originated as american law enforcement organization. And since it has to operate on the international level, it's subject to same restraints as military. One of those is a little bill dating back to the world war days, which mandates that at least fifty one percent quantity of any military equipment used by USA forces must be manufactured within USA. So Eurocopter had no choice but to license their copters for local production.  
- Go on.  
- As far as I can tell, DeBeers intend to do away with GJ before the official slated date for first copter delivery. Failing that, they intend to hand the manufacturing to their local assets. If it so happens they fail to shut down GJ by the virtue of lacking assets in the area, Eurocopter will have no choice but to supply the aircraft and data for local manufacturing - to manufacturers that don't answer to DeBeers. Being ready for that would be a big plus on PR score, and one of the bigger hassles is to keep copters fueled and maintained. Second is handled internally in GJ, thankfully, so the fuel was the only major headache with that. Having octabio arranged for that date would seriously stock up my hand. You, again, get to make a tidy profit - with the recent eco-craze going on, going green just might double the budget allotted, so GJ would be able to pay premium for new fuel.  
- OK, and if Eurocopter goes cold turkey completely?  
- Local production, as recommended by Bellefortis principle. Quirks of law mandate we hijack the production if it so happens developer tries to back out in the last moment.  
- ...Cold, Possible. Didn't think I'd ever say that, but I like the way you think. So you want to push this deal through to hold Eurocopter by guts instead? But will people in White House go along with this?  
- Not like they'll have much of a choice. I'm planning on lots of pomp and circumstance in this one. Anyone pulls back and they get branded unpatriotic. Kinda a bum rep for any politician, I hear.  
- True enough. Still, this plan of yours is highly risky. Anything goes not the way you intend it to go, and things go crashing on your head.  
- I don't have any better options here. I can risk and win, or play possum and get buried. Which I'm not interested in, you understand.

Bonnie was about to reply, when she noticed a glass in her hand. Pausing out of surprise, she took a look on the table, and snickered. Ron, it appeared, used the time they spent talking to cook a dinner and ninja it on the table without them noticing. "...You know, Possible, I think we just might pull it off. Especially so, considering the ever-sneaky Ron." - she offered wryly, taking a sip from her glass. Kim startled, her eyes darting over the table, as she noticed the dinner. She stared at smirking Ron, astonishment written over her face.

- Ron?... What the... how... the... Well, cripes!... Ron, you magnificent bastard, how did you do that?  
- Good eyes and nimble fingers, KP, that's all there is to it.  
- All there is, he says. Sneaking a dinner... DINNER, damnit! Way to go to make me feel sorely inadequate. Well, bottoms up for the kitchen ninja!

Redhead downed her glass, and grinned at Ron, shaking her head bemusedly - "I think we got sidetracked here with all the business talk. Let's get back to the original event... Happy birthday, Ron."

* * *

Stretching out, Bonnie looked out of the window. She was still curious as to how Kim was able to get on the roof to begin with. Apparently, by employing some alpinism, considering she had just disappeared behind the parapet. Surprisingly enough, the rest of Ron's birthday went pretty merrily. After dinner, some more well-wishing and present-giving ensued, and then redhead left, promising to return in business hours to discuss their collective plans they've tentatively agreed on today. That was quite fine, as far as Bonnie was concerned - she intended to give Ron some... special presents, and for that, tete-a-tete was quite preferred.

She was about to go look for the blonde, when he suddenly entered from the kitchen. "Phew. I've had a grand time, Bon-bon..." - he offered, smiling at his girlfriend, - "Do you need anything? I'm about to go to bed." She shook her head, and walked over to him, giving him a hug and a kiss - "Nah, I'm ready for bed too, I think." As he stepped back, she called out - "Ron? Where are you going?"

- ...To bed?  
- Wrong way.  
- Wha... No, my room is that way?  
- OUR room is this way.  
- ...OUR?... Er...  
- Happy Birthday, Ron.

* * *

House of Records was quiet today. That suited Bonnie just fine, as she and Ron put down their signatures down on all papers. Filing for marriage license was a bit of a hassle, but it was well worth it. For Bonnie, it was but a routine job, another paperpushing deal to sort through and move on. Ron, on the other hand, had a serious case of stomach butterflies. It's been four months since his birthday. His last birthday present was quite overwhelming, and he felt it suggested some action on his side. Therefore, armed with the documented lore of countless grooms before him, he ventured out, purchased a ring and stammered out a proposal over the best dinner he was able to cook. And even though he really expected the proposal to be accepted, actual acceptance slammed him with the force of sledgehammer. Since neither of them was on speaking terms with their families, they decided against the large ceremony. Only two of them. Quiet civil ceremony. A bit of honeymoon in Hawaii lined up.

He signed the document with reverence. That signature marked the end of uncertainty and promised the beginning of... of what? He knew not. But he felt that this signature transformed him, and transformed his girlfriend as well. No longer just cohabitants, nor boyfriend and girlfriend. Groom and bride. That thought awoke even more butterflies. He never expected that to happen, to stand here in the Hall of Records with Bonnie, arranging their marriage, but yet here he was. And he had no regrets. No regrets at all.

- Do you, Ronald Dean Stoppable, take Bonnie Angeline Rockwaller to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?  
- I, um, do.  
- Do you, Bonnie Angeline Rockwaller, take Ronald Dean Stoppable to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?  
- I do.  
- Rings, please?

Ceremony was strictly civil - judge Anselmo Esteban Santiago presiding. They had discussed the ceremonies, and agreed on making this as low-key, as possible. Big ceremonies could be held later, when inviting families would be conceivable. For now, they just wanted to ratify their union in the eyes of the law - and in their own eyes, as well. Rings were exchanged.

- I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. S... Er, Rockwaller. You may now kiss the bride.

For all her unflappability, Bonnie was blushing when Ron leaned to her, and kissed her gingerly. Judge, archivarius and bailiff clapped politely, as they parted. Receiving their papers from judge, newlyweds thanked him and departed - their plane left in an hour.

* * *

"Good morning, mr. Rockwaller." - Bonnie was smirking. Ron was still in a daze after the ceremony, it seemed, even though it was a day and plane trip ago. Using her surname was a choice they mutually supported - Ron was not all too fond of being Stoppable in first place, and when given an option to become mr. Rockwaller instead, he accepted it without much ado.

- Mrm... Good morning, mrs. Rockwaller. Just a moment, please. OOf... Jetlag is cruel in the mornings.  
- Oh, you can stay where you are. I'm just about to join you, to be honest.  
- Huh? I thought you were all wired up about hitting the beaches.  
- It's raining, hon. We've caught the very end of monsoon downpour, it seems. Reception clerk says it's going to be sunny tomorrow and from then on, but today it's raining cats and dogs.  
- ...Man, I'm having the weirdest luck.  
- Sure do, dear. Seeing as we're confined indoors for the whole day... How about some extensive consummation of our marriage, darlin'?  
- Con...? Aaah!... That's sensitive... Ah!  
- I think I know... Heh.

* * *

He wished they stayed in hotel room for their whole honeymoon at the moment. Maybe then he wouldn't be locked in the cargo hold with his wife. Bonnie wasn't particularly thrilled, either, gingerly rubbing fresh bruise on her cheekbone. Three other tourists were there besides them, one cradling broken arm. Who'd think such perils were afoot in paradise?

They've signed up for a little sea tour - advertised as four-hour promenade on yacht. Four other people signed up with them today. One of them was currently dead - in the surprise scuffle, he's been thrown overboard, and struck his head on the mastling, losing consciousness. There was no doubt he drowned, seeing as yacht team seemed remarkably unconcerned about wellbeing of passengers. Apparently, they hijacked the yacht today for some nefarious need.

Ron leaned to the door and listened in. It seemed that goons in control of yacht were planning to use yacht to pick up some highly illegal cargo, and then ditch the vessel at sea, once the cargo got where it was intended to be. He wasn't particularly optimistic about their own fates, if left for bandits to decide. Time to get dangerous.

Sound of breaking wood made him turn around. That was Bonnie, who ripped out a part of broken crate. Making sure plank was without nails, she ripped out second one, and pointed to the tourist with broken arm. "You... whoever you are. I do believe you need medical attention there." - she offered quietly. Youngster looked up on her, teeth sinking in his lower lip, as he nodded.

"Lie on your back, and... Bite on this." - ordered Bonnie, busy ripping up tablecloth. Ron moved to help youngster, setting him down on the floor gingerly. Other two, elderly couple, moved out of the way, fear and worry obvious on their faces. Making sure everything is fine, Ron pressed his knee down on youngster's shoulder, keeping him stable. Bonnie considered the angle and yanked his hand sharply, setting the bone. Ignoring the muffled shriek and sobbing, she sandwiched arm between planks, and wrapped cloth straps tightly around it, making a makeshift splint. Ron kept the teen steady while Bonnie finished. Then, both of them moved back, letting youngster sit up.

Cradling his arm gingerly, he muttered - "Thanks. My name's Aaron, by the way... Who are you, guys?" Bonnie smirked slightly - "No problem. I'm Bonnie Rockwaller. This is my husband Ron." Turning to the elderly couple, she offered - "What about you two?" Man coughed, then replied cautiously - "I'm Otto Schiffer. Zis is my wife, Hilda."

Nodding, Bonnie sat down on one of the crates. Ron continued watching the door as she continued - "Well, now that we are introduced... Let's discuss our situation here. It does not seem those goons upstairs care much for us either way. They just need yacht. So, maybe, if we keep it quiet here, they'll just leave us be. Of course, there's no guarantee they won't leave us be, along the yacht, in some dire predicament. Any thoughts?" Old man volunteered quietly - "I'm afraid you're too right about dire predikament, frau. I'd vote to sit tight here, but it's not likely they'll leave any witnesses alive." His wife leaned closer to him, sobbing.

Ron offered from his vantage point - "There's seven of them, and they're all armed. We're not likely to overtake them easily, if at all. Especially considering that Aaron here is out for count." Youngster jerked, glaring at Ron, but movement disturbed his arm and he slumped back, whimpering - "..Damn. Damn. Damn. DAMN!"

Bonnie looked over the crates, taking stock of what they had - "We can barricade the door, I suppose, but I won't put beyond those bastards to sink the yacht once they've used it for whatever they want. Though, I don't quite understand what they need that yacht for. It's not like anyone who could afford arming those men would be hard-pressed to afford a boat." Otto offered from his perch - "Maybe they are not the intended recipients of the cargo they keep talking about."

Snapping her fingers, Bonnie turned to look at old man - "That makes sense. How'd you figure that out?" Otto shrugged - "I know a bit about ships. This yacht is a bit too big for what's she's advertised as. She's easily seaworthy - not the usual for recreation-type boats."

Nodding, Ron offered - "So, maybe the regular operators do some contraband work on the side?... And whoever the people upstairs are, they are hijacking not only ship, but the cargo as well? In that case, we might make a move when they'll be taking the cargo. Whoever is bringing it, they won't be too happy about it going to wrong hands." Bonnie shook her head - "They won't be too happy with us, either. Though, that might be the only option we have here."

"Hush!... Something's going on. I think... I think it's already the rendezvous time." - whispered Ron urgently, leaning his ear to the door again, listening in intently. Otto stood up, and whispered quietly to his wife - "Zeit zu kämpfen, Hilda. Sie bleiben zurück und kümmern sich um Jungen. Gott will, werden wir durch dieses lebendig zu erhalten. Was auch immer geschieht, ich liebe dich. Jetzt und für immer."

Old man's resolve took Bonnie by a bit of surprise, but she knew every little bit would help. And it seemed that Otto had some idea what to do, she observed, watching old german rip a good hefty 2x4 from the crate. With a bit of surprise, she noticed that Otto took some care to preserve the nails. Brutal, but... She followed suit, preparing two more boards - one for herself, and one for Ron. Armed thus, they waited for Ron to give signal. Hilda moved closer to Aaron, both of them taking shelter behind the crates.

Heavy footsteps echoed from upstairs. Heavy labored footsteps of people carrying heavy weight. Ron considered the noise. At least four men would be incapacitated temporarily by the weight of their load. He pressed the handle down. Lock, which he previously picked with a pair of nails, yielded easily, and he disappeared behind the door. Bonnie followed, her eyes taking on steel glint as she ducked to the opposite side, covering territory. Otto followed, closing the door behind him.

Before long, it was over. Four were carrying, just as Ron heard, and fifth was preoccupied with the rudder. That left two lookouts, one of which Ron expeditiously dispatched with a handchop. He hurled his makeshift weapon in the second one, catching him with blunt end right in the temple, and fell on the four that tote the huge crate. Bonnie was closer to those four, and already dispatched one with a well-placed swing of the board, when they began to take action. In the close quarters, they were unable to use their guns in time, and were no match for Ron's kung fu. Seventh, who was at the rudder, abandoned his post, grabbing firearm, but before he could take aim, his shoulder exploded with blood. Otto, who wisely hung back a little, had pilfered a gun from the guard who was downed first, and shot the rudderman. Five minutes later, all seven were tied securely, arms bound behind their backs and tied to legs, preventing any kind of movement. Slightly cruel, but tourists were not willing to take any chances. Whoever were bringing the goods, they chose to abstain from the scuffle - only the faint outline of motorboat could be seen on the horizon, as it sped away from the yacht.

Tying the last knot on makeshift bandage that covered the shoulder of wounded bandit, Bonnie commented offhandedly - "Nice shot, Otto. Where did you learn to shoot like that?" To her surprise, Otto looked down, his eyes averted. It seemed he was not going to reply for a few seconds, but then he did offer with bitter pride - "I've ... been Kriegsmarine in youth. Best sharpshooter on Emden." Both her and Ron glanced on the old man, then synchronously shrugged - "OK then." Apparently, Otto was expecting slightly different reaction, but questioned not the motion. Instead, he descended to the cargo hold, to bring out his wife and Aaron.

Youngster was not feeling well, apparently, pale and shivering as he clambered out on the deck and fell into the folding chair. Hilda, on the other hand, was merely shaken. As women raided the yacht's medical chest to treat youngster properly, men dragged all seven bandits to the nose of the yacht, where they laid them on the deck, binding each one to the railing, thus ensuring none of the bandits, even if some were to regain consciousness prematurely, would be able to do anything.

An hour later, Otto steered yacht back to the point of origin. They attempted to hail help on radio, but bandits had destroyed yacht radio station thoroughly, so the only recourse was to set sail for the terra firma. Aaron had been sedated and placed into cabin, Hilda stayed with him. Ron kept watch over the bandits, while Bonnie examined the crate. It's been blank, save for one stenciled label - "MacGuffin's device." She decided against prying the crate open. Police can do it.

* * *

Ron knew it was not becoming of a man to beg, and yet he had no choice but to plead for mercy, for his body ached in ways he was not even aware of prior to this exhilarating experience.

- Bon-bon... Haah...  
- Mrr?  
- Hah... Mercy, please... Haah.  
- Hehe.

It would seem that Bonnie was hardly in better shape, despite her playful mood. She snuggled closer to Ron, and nuzzled in his shoulder. She was happy. Scuffle with seafaring criminals earlier today had excited her, worried her and made her desire Ron far more then she could expect. Yet again reminded that nothing is forever under the moon, she wanted to partake in as much happiness as she could. Of course, once again reaffirming her control over the world was a good part of it as well.

Ron stared on the ceiling, pondering. Openly dangerous situations like the one in the morning were a part of his day-to-day life in school. Well, not quite similar to the situation on yacht, but nonetheless, his life revolved around dangerous and crazy. And then he stepped out of it, and entered into stability and ruthless order of Bonnie's world. Even as the crazy reared it's ugly head today, he beat it back - and Bonnie stood with him to keep it at bay. Things were... natural. Logical. Reasonable.

He nuzzled his wife's hair, inhaling the fragrant aroma of herbal shampoo. "I love you, Bonnie." - he muttered quietly, grinning in the darkness of room. That was the whole truth. He loved and he was loved. And that was a fact world had to respect... or else.

Yawning, Bonnie tugged comforter over them, lazy, sated and tired. Teasing aside, she was ready to simply sleep... If not for one little problem. That, not being sleepy. Apparently, Ron was plagued by that as well, and while they exhausted their bodies for nigh three hours now, minds stayed as alert as they could ever be.

- ...Bon-bon? What was in that crate, after all?  
- Oh?... One that caused all the hubbub?... You'll laugh.  
- MM... Really?  
- Yep. It's... drumroll, please... daba-daba-dum... MacGuffin's device!  
- Wha?... Mac... You're pulling my leg.  
- Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.  
- ...BWAHAHAHAAA! Oi vey is mir. We were... MacGuffin... Ahahahaaaa!  
- Toldja you'd laugh.  
- Heheheh. Well, yeah, you've got to admit... That's just.. crazy.  
- Not as much as you think.  
- Oh? Spill the beans.  
- I'm guessing criminals have sense of humor too. No such thing as MacGuffin's device, of course. Rather, as detective told me, it was a shipment of guns. Someone's smuggling chinese firearms to South America, and Hawaii is one of the drop spots, apparently.  
- Strange, I thought there's more then enough guns there already.  
- High-tech weapons. QBZ-95 rifles and ammo, if I remembered the name right. Apparently, those are in good demand among drug cartels due to armor-piercing power.  
- Ah... Yawn. Weirdos.  
- Mmmr?... What do you mean?  
- Yawn. Oh, just thinking aloud. World's a crazy place, no?  
- Only as far as we let it be... Heh, but our pillowtalk certainly is crazy, that's for sure.  
- Ya... S'pose so. Why not, though?...  
- YYYawn... As long as it puts us both to sleep, eh?  
- Well, there's always picnic game, if that fails...  
- Ron, you... ! *whap*  
- Hey, hey!... *shuffle* That's privaaaaaaaaaa... aah... Agh...AH!  
- You were saying?  
- Aah!  
- Thought so.  
- ...Ah... hah...hah... hah... hah. That should be... hah... outlawed for... hah... brutal efficiency... ah.

Taking pity on Ron, Bonnie wrapped her arms around his chest and snuggled closer again, letting them both relax. Silly conversation did help her to calm down some, though, so soon she was dozing peacefully. Ron wasn't far behind.

* * *

Fuji was certainly magnificent in spring. Bonnie had a chance to take a few snapshots earlier from the sakura gardens, the classic of Fuji viewing, but it looked just as well from up close... well, closer, anyway. What worried her more, however, was that the aesthetic aspect of the situation had been piquantly seasoned with lurking danger in the form of ninjas. Ron wanted to visit Japan at the end of their honeymoon, as he put it - he had some unfinished conversation here. Apparently, conversation went sour.

She shrugged, following blonde, as he climbed the faint forest trail. Anything that dragged on for that long must be put to rest - she was firm in her opinion on this. Seeing as it coincided with Ron's equally firm opinion, they were in perfect agreement about doing what it takes. Unfortunately, dealing with ancient cults of martial arts proved to be ill-suited to employ her considerable financial acumen. She took heart in the fact both she and Ron were equipped with the best money could afford.

Ron plodded forward, secure in knowledge Bonnie is right behind him. He was not expecting this complication, but then again, what could go the intended way when it concerned Yamanouchi? His initial plan was simple - visit old Sensei and converse with him. Sensei did tell him that if he should ever happen to marry, he would be a changed man, and Ron wanted to confirm that to Sensei - if nothing else, to honor the wisdom of old man. He was also pretty certain he'd be hanging Lotus Blade on the wall, metaphorically speaking, so that needed to be settled too. Not a lot of use for magic blade right now, but it would be best to have someone actually interested in being mystical protector of the whole world... Just in a pinch. If push came to shove, blonde mused morosely, he'd take up the arms again - but to forsake his boons of family life for training "just in case"? Pfah. Let the heroes have that honor.

Of course, when he arrived to Yamanouchi yesterday, he found it in a state of quiet bedlam. Sensei had disappeared, and Hirotaka was already bending over backwards trying to keep everything on the level with the school. As Yori succinctly put it - "We never realized how much relies on Sensei until he went missing." So much, in fact, that she had to abandon her early attempts at search and instead help Hirotaka fill Sensei's shoes adequately. Of course, Ron was instantly drafted into searching in her stead. Originally, Yori even espoused the idea of partnering with Ron to make a quick search and recover, and Ron was very thankful Hirotaka vetoed that idea. He wasn't sure how to interpret some of the glances Yori cast his way, but he was quite grateful Yori wouldn't have chances to elaborate on her intentions in private. He had a distinctly-clear gut feeling Bonnie would disagree.

Thankfully, Hirotaka was aware enough of Sensei's plans to give Ron a distinct location to search in - Aokigahara forest. Which detracted significantly from both his and Bonnie's moods. So far, neither had seen anything out of ordinary, although Bonnie had stumbled upon a little scrapbook by the side of trail a while earlier. Neither she, nor Ron knew the people on the photos within it - pictures being pretty much the average of family life slowly declining with age. Bonnie kept the book, however, intending to place it somewhere less accessible then ditch where she found it. She felt less then thrilled with the mundane reality the book presented.

According to Hirotaka, Sensei visited Aokigahara forest once each seven years, always alone, and never for longer then a day. This time, it was more then a week's time, however, and Yamanouchi had almost exploded with collective worry of students. Noone knew what was the purpose of Sensei's visits, but everyone agreed they must've been deeply spiritual in nature. Ron did not liked that not a single bit. Spiritual always meant some ancient and deep-seated hassles, which he would be summarily drafted into resolving.

Suddenly, he felt Bonnie pull his sleeve, as she caught up with him. "Wait. I hear someone moving to the... er, west." - she offered quietly to Ron, eying unnaturally quiet forest with displeasure. Indeed, distant noise suggested someone was indeed traversing the woods not too far from them. As they listened in, noise quietened for a moment, and then suddenly exploded with a deafening shotgun crescendo, echoing over the mountain to die off a few moments later.

Both of them immediately dropped to the ground, wary of any follow-up shots. Forest was quiet again, however. Completely quiet and still. Whoever discharged that shell was not moving. Five minutes... Ten... Fifteen... Quietly, Ron had slipped back out of his solo sojourn through the woods, settling down next to Bonnie. "Nothing to... worry about." - he offered quietly, his face tight-lipped and grim as he explained - "Suicide shooter. Splattered his brains all over the Fuji, I think, no chance he'd need any help anymore... Besides undertaker's services, I suppose."

Bonnie made a face as she stood up, looking at Ron - "We'll have to tell police on the way down." Ron nodded, still looking unusually stern, - "I've found Sensei's trail, however. Good news is that we're probably almost done here. Bad news is that we have to pass by that... guy, there. Sensei's in the cave right next to the rock where this dude.. well, shot himself."

- Let's go, then. The sooner we're done with this, the better.  
- Are you sure, Bon-Bon? I think I can handle things here. No need for you to see IT, too.  
- Nah. I'm not leaving you alone, and I'm not staying alone either. Or going alone anywhere. Not in this forest. I think there are worse things lurking around then dead body.  
- True. Well, let's go then. Darnit, you should've stayed in Tokyo.  
- Nah. Let's get this over with and get out of here.

Together, they crossed the tiny stream and approached the cave from whence it sprang. A few yards away from the cave entrance, body enjoyed it's final rest. Ron had seen it already, but he still averted eyes, less then comfortable with the recent death. Bonnie, at first somewhat disinterested, suddenly stopped, and looked over the body intently. Then whipped out scrapbook she picked earlier, and leafed it to the last pages, comparing the body and the picture of the old man, obviously the owner of the book. "That's him, Ron." - she offered dispassionately, her eyes taking on steel glint as she cast another look - "This scrapbook belongs to the gramps here. Not exactly a coincidence, don't you think?"

She dropped scrapbook unceremoniously on the body, and turned to face Ron - "Is this Sensei guy fond of riddles and vague signs?" Scratching the back of his head, Ron wrecked his memory, losing grim expression as the peculiarity of situation sunk in - "Sort of, but I don't remember him ever making macabre hints like those. No, this is not exactly like him... Hrm. D'you think something supernatural is playing tricks here?"

- That much is obvious. I'm more of curious whether it targets either of us. If so, you'd better recall all that you know about this spiritual mumbo-jumbo.  
- Well... Best I can come up with is to move swiftly and try to locate Sensei inside the cave before something really bad happens.

Blonde turned to face the cave, and groaned. "Well, I suppose no need to try locating Sensei anymore." - he offered wryly, observing the old man stumble out of the cave into the sunlight. Old man did not look particularly good, his once immaculate clothes stained, ripped and dirtied. If Ron's memory served him good, Sensei looked worse then the last time, as well, but that would be pretty much par for the course for someone who spent a week in icy cavern.

- ...Ron-kun? What are you doing here?  
- Greetings, Sensei. Yori-chan and Hirotaka-san implored me to seek you in these haunted forests while they keep the affairs of Yamanouchi.  
- Ah, I'm not Sensei, Ron-kun. I don't want that title... Nor do I deserve it.  
- How shall I then refer to you, Hanshi?  
- I... I am called Ichiro Katashi. Please, Ron-kun... Return to Yamanouchi and tell them I... I will not be coming back.  
- Why is that so, Ichiro-sama?  
- I... It is time for me to stay in these woods.  
- Really? I've never pegged you for suicidal type.  
- I am not, Ron-kun. But this is where I must stay.  
- Then why are you staying here? Aokigahara is the place people come to die to. Surely, you are not here for that?

Before old man could offer any kind of response, Bonnie pointed behind him, and said urgently - "Something's coming from the cave!" Cold fog rose from the icy depths, too thick to be a natural occurrence. Sensei turned around sharply, and breathed out - "No! Haha-ue, NO! They are young and innocent. They know not what happens here. Don't take them!" Fog consolidated more, forming a figure of old woman. Silently, she pointed to the trail, and looked on Sensei sternly.

"You must go. You two... You must go now." - offered old man urgently, shivering from unnatural chill. Ron took a step back involuntary, his mind stumbling over the newly-presented facts. He needed a little time to recoil, unfortunately ghosts rarely had much patience for mortal dawdling. Fortunately enough, Bonnie's mind had much more processing power. "Haha-ue... Mother?" - she breathed out, her finger stabbing accusingly in Sensei's direction - "So... THIS is what it all about? You left your mother in these woods?" Sensei nodded simply, his head bowed.

- It was so long ago... I never wanted to, but... Everyone, they said I must. They said ubasute must be done. Said that spirits command so. I did not wanted to, but... She told me to do as they said. She told me to leave her here. I never wanted to!  
- Is that so? When did that occur?  
- Hundred and fourty-seven years and a week ago.  
- And you've been coming here each seven years?  
- ...Yes.  
- So why did you stay now?  
- For years, I just... I wanted forgiveness. I have studied arts, I have talked with spirits. They were wrong. They were always wrong! It was not meant to happen! I...  
- Go on.  
- Mother always rejected me. Each time I'd come, and she'd cast me out of cave, her hand directing me to Yamanouchi. This time... this time she let me stay. I don't want to leave. I never wanted to leave her.  
- Look on her now.

Ichiro whirled around, staring at the mouth of the cave. His face turned ashen as ghost pointed at him and then once again on the trail, stern look on her face. Old man fell on his knees, his anguish and confusion coming out as howling scream - "WHY! What can I do to earn your forgiveness, mother!" Considering the scene for a moment, Bonnie stepped closer, shivering as undead chill nipped her skin through the camelwool sweater. Unlike Ron and Sensei, she never put stock in spiritual meaning - her turf was taking facts and operating them quickly. Reputation of this particular forest was.. notorious enough to be widely espoused for tourist attention. She considered things and came to conclusion.

It appeared that ghost was not capable of speaking. But it seemed that it could hear and see well enough, as well as gesture. Making a snap decision, Bonnie pointed at the kneeling man, then on the trail, and looked on ghost pointedly, doing her best to express question. It was hard to make out ghost's facial expression, but affirmative nod was obvious. Emboldened by success, Bonnie attempted more complex pantomime. She pointed at old man again, wiggled finger at her temple, suggesting confusion on his part, then mimed consecutively talking to man, enlightened face expression complete with forehead slap, and walking down the trail. Ghost was definitely in favor of that idea, nodding enthusiastically. Grinning, Bonnie nodded to Ron, and mouthed - "I've got it." He nodded back, relief obvious on his face, and prepared to listen.

- Ichiro-san? I do believe you're wrong in interpreting your mother's actions.  
- ...Wha...? No. No... Leave me.  
- Hear me out. Forgiveness may be closer then you think.  
- ...Leave me be.  
- Fine, I'll just tell you what I think regardless. You are gravely mistaken here. Your mother had forgiven you for what you had to do all those years ago when she told you to bring her here. She understood the hardships you'd face should you disobey the custom and wished to spare you. What you need to ask forgiveness for, is for holding her ghost bound to this cave for all this time. As long as you were doing your self-imposed penance seeking the forgiveness already granted, she could not leave. This was why she cast you out of cave - being unable to speak as a ghost, she attempted to tell you this way to get on with your life and let her pass on.  
- No, this can not be!  
- Look at your mother then, and ask if it is so, or not.

His eyes filled with fear and hope, old man looked up, at his mother. Ghost nodded resolutely, pointing on Sensei and then on the road again. He shuddered - "I... All this time, it was ME!" Bonnie nodded thoughtfully, offering - "Yes. You are the only reason why your mother still haunts Aokigahara, Ichiro-san. Don't you think it's time to let her go? I'd say she deserves her rest, by now." Ghost again confirmed by nod. Quite uncharacteristically for him, Sensei uttered - "D'oh.", his hand rising involuntarily to deliver a well-deserved facepalm to himself. As he contemplated, doubt still on his mind, ghost stepped forward. She leaned to Sensei briefly, and gave him a motherly hug. Then pointed once again to the trail, and vanished without a trace.

Five minutes later, Sensei was sitting at the rock outcropping, tugging the blanket around him tighter, as he sipped hot broth from thermos. "Thank you, Ron-kun, Bonnie-sama. I'll never forget the lesson you've given me today..." - he offered quietly, looking forlornly in the depths of cave - "I'm plagued by so many doubts lately. At times, I think it would be best I stayed in Aokigahara simply for the benefit of my pupils. Surely, they need not an old relic like me to weigh them down." Bonnie shook her head disapprovingly. Old man was certainly extraordinarily resilient, but week's stay in the icy cave had taken it's toll on him as well - he simply lacked the energy necessary to make it down the trail safely. Apparently, he was still in low spirits as well.

Ron observed from his vantage point. He was hanging back for this while, letting Bonnie employ her diamond-edged mind to skewer open the mystery. Now, when the big problem was over, he could work his mojo on smoothing out the leftovers. But how? His eyes wandered around, and he immediately regretted that, as he glanced on the red smear. Unfortunate shooter was still there, his body overlooked in the excitement of scuffle with ghost. Now, it became a prominent eyesore again, and Ron wished they'd be ready to leave the vicinity of gruesome scene as soon as possible. Sensei's last words reached his ears just as he was thinking about hapless suicide victim. Suddenly inspired, Ron retrieved the scrapbook Bonnie dropped earlier, and brought it to Sensei.

"Look here, Sensei. This is a good proof why Yamanouchi needs you." - he offered, leafing through scrapbook, letting old man see the pictures, - "This man over here thought he's weighting people down just like you think right now, Sensei. And look... his family had been brought to ruin by his foolish belief. Should you stray on the same path, Sensei? Should you let your doubt kill all that you hold dear? Doubt not the affection of your students, and you'll never weigh them down. But poise yourself as useless... And useless you will become."

Shaken with profound simplicity, Sensei stared on Ron wordlessly for nearly a minute, then suddenly grinned, offering wryly - "Now it is my turn to call you Sensei, it seems. Let us be off. I believe I'm strong enough to make it out of the forests now. The sooner we'll be away from this despondent place, the better."

* * *

He fidgeted, adjusting his jacket again. Attending gala with his wife turned out to be more work then he expected. Even though she said it's supposed to be casual, her and his ideas of casual were a mite... different. Not that Ron was all too stifled in his attire, but smoking-coat was new to him, and he was constantly plagued by the suspicion it's not sitting as it's supposed to.

Then, Bonnie came out of bathroom, and he sighed. Jacket woes were forgotten. Dressed in pantsuit, Bonnie indeed managed to make it look casual. Actually, he realized with a measure of distant curiosity, they were dressed remarkably alike.

- Come on, darlin'. We've just got enough time to take a stroll and arrive fashionably late.  
- A stroll?... I thought we had to arrive by limo?  
- Ah, that's for kids. Like it or not, hon, you're taken a liiil'bit too seriously to judge you by your limo. If anything, they expect us to be eccentric.  
- Eccentric, I can dig. Still, are you sure about that?  
- Mm... Ron, darlin', do you want to take the limo? You were feeling all fidgety last time, remember?  
- Well, yeah, but I'm not sure how we're supposed to be... Help me out a little here, Bon-bon.  
- What's the matter?  
- That blasted tee, I just can't tie it right. Gah, almost strangled myself.  
- Oh, just leave it. Come on here, I'll help you.

Bonnie moved closer, slipping tee out from under Ron's collar. She tossed the aforementioned tee on the couch, and undid the top button of Ron's shirt, kissing him gently afterward - "There. Much better, I think. And really, if you want limo, we can call for a limo. Though it would look mighty silly, considering it's just around the corner... literally."

- I know, I know. Worrying about silly things is what I do, honey.  
- Oh, keep it cool. People are as unsure about you, as you're unsure about them. Just remember that you're richer then anyone out there, if you'll feel nervous.  
- How come? I thought creme de la creme is attending?  
- True. It just so happens you're the richest person in the state, right now. Investments, remember? Between the two of us, we are responsible for twenty three percents of state GDP. It just so happens that you're the wallet and I'm the quill.  
- Wallet? Quill? Oh, you mean that "double insurance" thing you've explained about?  
- Bingo.  
- Yeah, it's surprising how much this sounds like cloak and dagger.  
- Well, not quite as lethal, but yeah. Human nature never changes. Don't you look forward to wreaking some well-meaning havoc on this gala, darlin'?  
- I would, if I knew where to begin. Playing by ear always ends up wacky.  
- We might not have to do anything at all, yanno. It's mostly about getting a feel for situation. Between your incursions and Possible's impromptu downsizings at her merry little viper nest, things are looking much better for us all.  
- I suppose, but that just makes it likely those DeBeers try something really rash.  
- That's what Possible counts at. She wants them to do something rash enough to stick their neck out so she could deliver a good solid chop to it.

Taking Bonnie's arm gingerly, Ron pressed the button for elevator. Together, they descended down to the lobby, and walked outside, conversing quietly as they made their way to the Palatine Hall - the place where the event was to be held. In essence, that was a get-together of people who meant something in finance. Not everyone attended, obviously enough, but still, the haphazardly-regular event was a good enough excuse to discuss communal interests and plans in semi-informal environment. Invitation to such an event basically suggested person in question holds enough weight in local circles to have valuable opinion. This season, both of them received separate invitations, which was rather unsubtle, if flattering, hint from organizers.

As they approached the hall, Ron slowed down near the newspaper stand. At Bonnie's inquisitive glance, he nodded towards one of the papers. As his wife read the headline and smirked, he purchased the paper and tucked it under his arm. "Expecting eccentricity, eh?" - he offered in lieu of response to his wife's bemused gaze. Of course, having seen the headline, Bonnie couldn't help but snicker in her sleeve, so to speak. Ron possibly had a hand in making this, she decided. Not alone, of course, but such a blow out of thin air was definitely ninja-like. Most likely, Possible hinted him about the occurrence, and he... He, in his turn, lured very-very-very curious and quite audacious journalists to the whole debacle. She sighed, as they resumed the walk. From one side, it was quite amusing the first coup by DeBeers ended with such a "spit in the soup", so to speak. From other, now there's definitely gonna be sparks at the gala. Oh well. Back to fanning the flames.

A few hours later, atmosphere at the hall had gone from casually-formal to friendly-shady, people discussing business, brokering agreements, settling disputes left and right. At the first glance, there was no order to the mass of attending, but careful observation pointed out some quite obvious groups. Main hall was filled with small-time players, friends of attending, dates of attending and various other "riff-raff", who's opinion and actions held little weight. They had some, alright, but not quite enough to qualify for decision-making circle. Further into the hall, in the smoking room, big players congregated. Division was obvious here as well - the core of power players had been quite obviously centered around the billiard tables, while hopefuls and almost-ins loitered all around the rest of the room.

"So, Zeke, what do you make out of youngest Rockwaller here, and her paramour?" - Richard was somewhat unsettled by the pair, obviously. From one point, he had little to fear from either, neither in financial, nor in other plans. From other, Bonnie had by now enjoyed the reputation of ruthless no-nonsense businesswoman with a chip on her shoulder for everyone daring to underestimate her. Rapid takeover of Agricola Inc. was still fresh on his mind - Rick entertained the notion of acquiring some of Agricola property for his own productions, and calculated efficiency of one-hour grab had left him with nothing but discontent and surprise. Even worse still, that... Ron Rockwaller, he recalled. Complete black horse. Appeared out of thin air with a fistful of millions from Bueno Nacho. Royalties? Of that caliber? Well...

"Oi, Rick. She's on the level, and that's about all I'm concerned about." - Ezekiel's reply did not alleviate Richard's worries, not a single bit. He wanted some opinion, not a brushoff - "Come now, Zeke. She's as unusual as unusual comes, don't you think?" Ezekiel leaned closer to the table, lining up a shot at the far hole. Crack! His cue struck the ivory off-center, sending rapidly spinning ball into 2-ball, ricocheting off and striking 4. As both 2 and 4 sunk in holes, Ezekiel straightened up and regarded Richard seriously - "You've got something on your mind, Rick? Well, the game is as good as mine anyway, so how about we go talk somewhere... a bit quieter?"

Nodding his agreement, Richard laid down his cue stick across the table and followed Ezekiel to the side room, snatching up a glass of cognac on the way. Settling down in the chair, he sipped amber liquid and looked on his long-time friend and occasionally partner through the glass - "Zeke, I'm concerned. I can deal with Fred, we've had some business together, he's got the hand on the pulse. But now his youngest had horned into the stock market, and she's taking no prisoners from what I can see. I've asked around, you know, and it does not help Fred's away in Hong Kong, either. Word is, that she's on the outs with Fred. So, the question practically asks itself - what's the source of her wealth? Her husband, maybe? But then again, this Ron... a fine black horse in his own right, you know. Just shows out of nowhere with Bueno Nacho millions. I know just how good of a revenue Bueno Nacho turns with all this crap food, but still, ninety-nine millions in royalties? That sounds quite shady to me."

Ezekiel shook his head, settling his abundant frame into chair more comfortably. "Now, Rick, don't be so hasty. I know you've looked into things, but you haven't figured out what exactly to look for. I've had those worries, too. First of all, Bonnie's fortune ain't received. She's been playing stock exchange for years, actually. Her real start in serious business actually dates back to that DoD contract you've profited from quite well, remember?" - he offered, gingerly clipping off the tip of his cigar.

"DoD?... You don't mean the tender that went to Silicon Dream, do you?" - Richard was incredulous, and that was quite audible, - "What was her angle in all of this?" Ezekiel chuckled, puffing out a jet of smoke - "An owner of Silicon Dream, no more, no less. Yep, Rick, she's the one who got that tender into our little bog in first place. Covered up her tracks real good, she did, but one of her figurehead shareholders happened to be my nephew Alan. Good kid, he is. Studying to be a surgeon."

Richard sat up straighter, his wiry body filled with too much nervous energy suddenly, as he digested that new information. "So... You mean to say, that she knew in advance about the tender? And bought out Silicon Dream just in time to snag the tender? And then sold it back to Belkovitz when shares hit the peak prices on stock market?" - he offered, taking a quick sip from his glass. "Spot on, old pal. That's exactly what she did. Turned almost a million of pure profit, too." - rotund banker was quite at ease, unlike his partner in conversation - "I've looked into it, and by all accounts, it seems that Bonnie plays mean but fair. I mean, haven't you heard about Jonesy and his pest problem? He's been turning a deficit on cotton lately due to locust attack, and Bonnie wanted to buy out the lands. Did the math, too - she bought out some of the loans Jonesy had, so it was either selling lands to her and paying her off, or her taking lands as payoff. Same deal, different papers. But Jonesy went to talk to her... you know how Jonesy is, right? Frank and honest, right in your face. And she backed off and worked out a deal with him instead. Jonesy haven't regretted it, and from the sound of it, she hadn't, either."

"Right. Jonesy ain't much of a stock player, Zeke, you know that." - offered Richard thoughtfully, sipping his cognac, - "Would you push him out of business if it was your shot to call, eh?" Ezekiel shook his head resolutely, grinning - "Goodness, no. His green thumbs are worth more then the lands he owns. What are you drivin' at, Rick? So lil'missus knows exactly what's worth what around our parts. That worries you how?" Wiry man shrugged and looked straight on his partner in conversation - "Fair enough, Zeke. I'll be straight here. You know I've got a deal worked out with Eurocopter, and I stand to gain a lot from that. Now Bonnie's making a ruckus on the market, and it's pretty clear she's gunning for Eurocopter. I'm not sure what to think, here. If it were Fred, I'd call him out to one of them rooms right now and clear the air. Her, though..."

Just as Ezekiel was about to reply, he was interrupted by chuckle from the further corner of the room. Both men looked there. A blonde guy they completely overlooked before sat on the couch, sprawled comfortably, newspaper in his hand. "My apologies, gentlemen... I've had no intention to eavesdrop on you." - he offered lazily, smiling, - "I've ducked out here to escape the din and.. well, I think I nodded off accidentally. Nonetheless, I think I can help you with your little dilemma. Here." He stood up and walked past Richard to the door, dropping newspaper casually on his lap. Both financiers stared after him, flabbergasted.

"See, Zeke? This is exactly the thing I'm talking about. Where the hell did he came out from?" - offered Rick heatedly, grabbing the paper and shaking it in the air angrily, - "I'm telling you, they're ten shades of shady. Who the hell creeps at people like that?" Ezekiel had more of aplomb - "Wait, Rick. Check the paper. I don't think he was just cranking you here." Rolling his eyes in exasperation, wiry man flung the paper open, and froze, staring at the headline. Then he skimmed through the article and threw the paper to his compatriot, yanking out cellphone from his pocket, and hammering in number feverishly.

Rotund banker plucked the paper from his lap, and examined the headline in detail. "Eurocopter plans a hostile takeover? Peregrine Avionics under fire!" Ezekiel swore quietly, and reached for his own cellphone. Richard was already speaking into his, arguing heatedly with several of his agents, who apparently were not thinking much about being pulled out of their beds. Situation deserved that much, however. Half-hour later, three more magnates joined the original duo, all of them crowded around the computer in far room, watching the stock graphics intently. One opined - "Rick, this is disaster. We're gaining percentage here, but even between us five, we don't have control package." Richard retorted - "It's not curtain yet, Abe. Hell, we're lucky Rockwaller warned us. If not for that yellow rag, we'd be robbed blind by the morning." Another agreed - "Quite so, old chap. Zeke, can we do something with their credit?" Banker hesitated, then shook his head - "Not a whole lot of, Alexander. Even if I were to deny them all credit in my assets, Eurocopter here is backed by DeBeers. They'll slap us with antimonopoly law faster then you can speeddial your lawyers."

Fifth volunteered - "Then we'll just have to outbid them here, no?" Ezekiel glared at him angrily - "That's what we're trying to do here, Caleb. But I'm not quite certain who's gonna get their chops busted in the end. As you can see, we've only got thirty six percents surefire. Twelve more belong to gold shareholders who won't sell their stock come hell or high water. That leaves fourty four for grabs to Eurocopter and their affiliates, and gives them right to veto just about anything we can dish out." Abraham volunteered - "What about Rockwallers? ...Um, Ron, right? He did warn Rick here, so they play for some angle in this, don't they?" Alexander answered - "Quite so. Bonnie's one of the golden shareholders, and controls seven percents. Any way you cut this, she gets her slice of pie here. I don't see why would they warn us."

"Because, gentlemen, I have a plan." - all five turned at that, staring at Bonnie, who just entered, Ron at her arm, - "A plan from which you all stand to profit, if you play by my rules." Ezekiel was the first to come to his senses. He gestured towards the computer, elbowing Caleb slightly to give more room to businesswoman. Caleb glared but obliged, scooting aside to let Bonnie into their circle. Ron hung back slightly, staying behind Bonnie's back.

"Very well, gentlemen. Let us begin." - Bonnie offered, as she sat down, cracking her fingers - "I intend to trade with each one of you for certain assets you own. Let's begin with you, mr. Geldstein, alright?" Ezekiel grinned, nodding back - "Just Zeke will do fine, young lady. We're all... tight, around here." Bonnie nodded to him, nodding - "Very well. In that case, please call me Bonnie. Now, my offer... A straight-out barter. You, Zeke, hold ownership of several bankrupted companies, such as Natural Fertilizers, Ltd., Golden Harp Productions and Veritas Yards. Total value of the property is to the tune of two and half million dollars. I would like to exchange this property for eighty three percents of Transatlantic Exports Ltd. Bulk value of such shares is one dot eight millions... But this company also owns nine percents of Peregrine Avionics shares, bringing total value to two dot two millions." Ezekiel grinned - "I would lose out on such a deal... But you've got the leverage with Peregrine Avionics shares. Am I right to assume all of your deals come with such leverage?" Bonnie nodded back at him - "Quite so, Zeke. On it's own, none of the deals I offer are directly profitable to you people... But if all of you take what I offer, you stand to regain complete control over Peregrine Avionics, and Eurocopter would still be forced to uphold their end of chopper deal."

Banker nodded thoughtfully, looking over his compatriots - "Well, gentlemen... That sounds interesting. I do believe we ought to hear out the whole offer." As other four men made various accenting noises, he nodded to Bonnie - "Please, continue." Bonnie cleared her throat and continued - "For mr. Fairchilde, I have this trade. Chopham&Savoy Motors and property of bankrupt Magnachem for Airway Lines, who own five percents of Peregrine Avionics shares. For mr. Gable - I offer to trade property of bankrupt North-Western Water Company and Middleton Water Treatment Plant for Marshall Electrics and sixty seven percents of Minnesota Aluminum shares, which holds seven percents of Peregrine Avionics. This brings your total of Peregrine Avionics shares from thirty six to fifty seven - a comfortable cut above the control package." Both Alexander and Abraham looked pensive for a few minutes, then Abraham nodded - "You have my vote, Bonnie. And please, just Abe." Alexander seconded him - "I do believe your terms are fair enough. Oh, and do dispense with needless formalities, please. Just Alexander is quite fine."

Richard was not so persuaded, however. "Wait a second. You said you have something for all five of us, here." - he inquired. Bonnie nodded, - "Indeed, mr. Alar. But for you and mr. Brightmore I have different kind of trades. For mr. Brightmore, I offer forty eight percents of Atlantic Shelf Mining and seventy of Marconi Radioelectronics Inc, in exchange for remaining property of Agricola Inc and it's affiliate Geneforge R&D. That gives mr. Brightmore nineteen percent ownership of Eurocopter in held stocks. For you, mr. Alar, I have Trading House "Venice" and Transatlantic Express, which I'm willing to trade for ownership of Geiss Glassworks and twenty four percents of Trans-Am shares. That, mr. Alar, gives you thirteen percent share in DeBeers foundation." Caleb looked like he was about to object at first, but then nodded as the terms were laid down - "Call me Caleb... So, you give me the means to lean on Eurocopter, eh?... I'm game." Richard was the last one to cast the vote, and all eyes met on him. He grinned and shrugged - "...As if you expect me to say no. I applaud you, madame. Machiavelli would be proud to call that scheme his own. Oh, and do call me Rick, please."

Ezekiel looked around the table - "We're all in agreement, then? Very well. Before we commit to that plan, I have but last thing to ask you, Bonnie. You're trading all of us for various agricultural and chemical industries. Can you candidly comment what's it all about?" Bonnie chuckled - "My, my, gentlemen, this is almost obvious. Surely, you remember the intellectual monopoly I hold, don't you?" Richard actually applauded - "You're planning on large-scale production of octabio, don't you, Bonnie?" She grinned widely, and nodded - "Spot-on, Rick. Going green is in vogue this season." Financiers over the table shared a hearty laughter as they signed the papers and contacted their agents to make the changes happen.

* * *

"MMMF!" - but the hand on her shoulder was unrelenting, shaking her gently but insistently. "Wake up, Bon-bon." - voice offered. That voice was very dear to Bonnie, but she still clung on to her sleep. "..go away..." - she muttered, trying to swat the hand away sleepily. She missed. Hand withdrew, and she almost believed she's been left alone - until aforementioned hand along with it's compatriot snuck under the blanket, and gripped her hips, tickling her sides softly. "...ahahaaaa! Agh!" - she clearly couldn't sleep anymore. "Agh... Ok, ok, I'm... ahahahaaa!... I'm awake, Ron, I'm awake! What's so important?" - she offered, as she gently pushed his hands away and rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

- Well, you did ask me to wake you up as soon as morning paper will be delivered.  
- Ugh. How come you are awake that early, even?  
- Oh, I've been waking up early for a while now. Anyways, paper's here... Your breakfast too, come to think of it.  
- Oh, you... So, what's the good word in paper?  
- Oh, better then good. Alar and Brightmore were both more zealous then you expected. Julius DeBeers arrested in Paris this morning for financial machinations.  
- What?... Oh, hell, this is better then good. What did he do?  
- Whole lot of stuff. I don't rightly understand all of this financial slang, honey. To the best of my understanding, he put just a bit too much stock in their yesterday shenanigan, and drawer came up short this morning.

Bonnie sat up straighter and looked around, finally in the capacity to comprehend the world normally. Tray with breakfast was on the bed by her side, along with the newspaper. "Right. Did Possible call yet about this?" - she inquired, biting into sausage with gusto. "I sure did!" - came the voice from beyond the bedroom door. Bonnie dropped the sausage onto the tray, and shrieked, grabbing the blanket to cover up. "Damnit, Possible, what are you doing at my home?" - she shouted, as redhead leaned from behind the doorway.

"Hello to you too, sleepyhead. Your wonderful husband let me in and treated me to a breakfast." - Kim offered, disappearing in the living room again - "Don't hurry, I have enough time today." As Bonnie glared at Ron, he could only smile apologetically, and mouth "hero, duh". Heaving a sigh, Bonnie left the bed, and changed into her house clothes. Five minutes later, all three of them were settled at the table in the living room, Bonnie enjoying her breakfast.

- Ok, Possible. Spill the beans. What's up with sudden arrests in Paris?  
- Oh, that? Nothing particularly important. Just some important people learning they aren't so important after all.  
- Oi, cut the crap and tell me straight.  
- Such a charmer in the mornings, are you? Oh well. Listen.  
- I'm all ears.  
- Heh. Right. DeBeers Foundation is not as stable as people thought. Julius was dipping into it to cover up for his sons. To begin with, Jean-Jacques DeBeers was busted in Oslo with enough of cocaine to supply whole Norway. His bust was pure accident - he was just caught in the wrong time at the wrong place, right in the middle of GJ operation. Funny enough, that operation wasn't even about drugs - we were simply moping up one of splinter bases of WWEE in Oslo.

Ron snuck off during conversation and came back with hookah. One of the more exotic habits he had picked during his career of obscenely rich man, he partook in it fairly often. Bonnie was partial to it either, although she wasn't exactly keen on working the contraption herself. As women conversed, he filled the reservoir with wine and assembled it, filling the burner with peach mix. Kim was about to inquire about the device, when he lit the coal, and leaned back, waiting for hookah to heat up.

- Er... Right. Anyway, Jean-Jacques was busted with cocaine, and since GJ did the bust, situation became a bit hard to salvage for Julius. While he was sorting that out, Michael DeBeers was caught red-handed in... less then savory sex crimes. It snowballed from there on, leaving no less then four DeBeers incarcerated for various crimes.  
- Let me guess - GJ was involved in all busts?  
- Pretty much, yes. In one way or another. So Julius began his campaign to undermine GJ, using every dirty trick in the book to discredit us. I don't rightly know why he did this, ultimately. Was it revenge or did he genuinely expected discrediting GJ would allow some of his relatives to give a slip to blindfold lady, I have no idea.

Redhead paused, and stared at Ron, who offered her a mouthpiece for hookah. She was about to object, then shrugged, and took it, taking in a cautious whiff. Seeing Ron puffing out clouds of aromatic smoke with obvious pleasure did persuade redhead to try more - "Puff... MMm, that's... nicer then I thought it is." "Yeah, smoking hookah isn't like smoking at all, KP." - agreed Ron lazily, as he leaned back, intent on listening on. GJ agent took another drag, then continued.

- Anyway, Julius overspent on trying to undermine GJ. While absolute majority of DeBeers Foundation was shared between members of DeBeers family and their retainers, he could do what he wanted, but when you pulled your grand coup yesterday... situation changed.  
- So I gathered. So what exactly did Brightmore and Alar do?  
- Audited Eurocopter and DeBeers Foundation, respectively.  
- ...Audited?... Cheeky bastards.  
- Yeah. Anyway, Brightmore audit had revealed a spot of nepotism in Eurocopter top echelons. One of vice-directors is out of work, two more are under close scrutiny by board of directors. Eurocopter announced this morning they do intend to honor the agreement with GJ to the tee. Apparently, they got their share of angry calls both from EuroUnion and White House.  
- So, Eurocopter is out of frypan? Good to hear. Without DeBeers to lean on them, they are pretty solid asset on european market.  
- Puff... Quite so. Alar audit was quite more scandalous - according to it, DeBeers Foundation is deep in the red and can't fulfill their obligations. As you can imagine, their credit had pretty much zeroed by eight in the morning.  
- OW. That hurts. So, DeBeers chaebol is done for?  
- Hah. Well, not quite, according to what I know. In the absence of Julius, seniority defaults to his daughter, Madlene DeBeers.  
- Can't say I envy her. Dealing with bankruptcy of chaebol is never pretty.  
- I wouldn't be so hasty about bankruptcy. You know about Madlene, no?  
- Well, to a point. She's kind of like me - a power player striking it out independently and making it to the top. Don't tell me she plans so take over DeBeers Foundation and revitalize it.  
- Sorry, but that's pretty much what she aims to do, by the look of things. Puff.  
- Darnit. Am I looking at rivalry down the line?  
- Heheh. Puff. Maybe not, Bonnie. I have my sources telling me that Madlene has even worse disagreements with her family then you do with yours. And she's not particularly shy at using her personal wealth to cut down her relatives to size. Actually... And you don't know it yet, mind... But a little bird told me Madlene had privately met with Rick Alar after the arrest of her father and they reached some kind of... agreement.  
- Oi vey is mir. So, what's the agreement they reached that I don't know about?  
- Now, this is all strictly hearsay, Bonnie, but apparently, Madlene offers to marry Rick and make DeBeers chaebol into Alar chaebol.

Bonnie dropped the fork. Then picked it up, and chuckled lightly. Ron dropped mouthpiece. Then picked it up and grinned goofily. "That is crazy." - he opined. Bonnie nodded thoughtfully - "Yeah, that's one hella crazy move. But then again, Rick doesn't seem like all that bad of a pick, if it comes to it. Maybe Madlene has something rational going for this decision. But then again, marrying for business is kind of... er." Kim shrugged - "Well, I guess everyone has their own reasons for marriage. Speaking of which, how's married life treating you two?" Ron grinned enthusiastically - "Couldn't be better, KP. I guess I'm one of them lucky bastards who get all there is to get in marriage." Bonnie snorted - "So sayeth the man who has to cook." Ron waved his hand in the air vaguely - "But I like to cook." Redhead snickered - "Well, it seems pretty obvious you two are doing quite well." He smile faltered a bit, as she mused - "Man, I'm envious."

Bonnie quirked her brow at Kim. "You've had your chance, Possible." - she offered flatly. Redhead rose her hands defensively - "Whoa, not in that kind of sense, Bonnie. I mean in general. It's sort of nice to just come home, and voila, someone had already cooked dinner for you. Fat chances for me, tho." Ron quirked his brow at Kim - "Come on, KP. You'll meet your prince charming, just wait." Redhead waved him off - "It's a pipe dream, Ron. I may wonder about having domestic life, but I'll go nuts if I'd actually try. Nah, hopping around the world is more of my speed. Guess I'll have to forego prince charming and settle for debonaire miss Bond."

Having finished with her breakfast already, Bonnie was quite grateful for it, as last comment by Kim made her hiccup. "Possible... Against my better judgment, I have to ask - are you a lesbian?" - she intoned seriously. Kim suddenly blushed, and stared on Bonnie with "deer in the headlights" expression - "How... I mean, WHY do you ask that?" Ron, equally flabbergasted, commented from his side - "You kinda said MISS Bond, KP." Kim sighed, and dropped her head on the table, blush intensifying - "Me and my big tongue... Don't you just love Freudian slips? Anyhow, I don't really care if it's miss or mister Bond. Leave it be, alright?" "I wasn't aware you're bisexual, Possible." - Bonnie certainly wasn't skimping on bluntness. Redhead groaned - "Look, it's a conditioned thing, OK? I've got to work undercover often, and being squeamish about sexuality just might end up being the cover blower. Maybe I had some orientation, but right now, I can't rightly recall what it was."

Bonnie and Ron exchanged glances, both quite perturbed by the answer. "TMI, KP, way too much TMI." - finally volunteered Ron, passing his mouthpiece to Bonnie. Kim chuckled weakly, and wrinkled her nose - "Right, right. Let's get back to business talk, aight? I've pulled some strings, so... Can you arrange us for some octabio, Bonnie? We're getting two choppers delivered next week for trials, and it would be neat to have new fuel ready." Bonnie took a drag and passed her mouthpiece back to Ron, as she mulled over the answer - "That depends, Possible. How much do you need?" Kim replied quickly - "For trials... Something to the tune of dozen barrels a week. Once we start getting them in bulk... Gearheads estimate four barrels a week per helicopter. We're expecting to receive forty eight helicopters by the autumn. So, we're looking at two hundred barrels per week average by the autumn this year. Think you can swing that, Bonnie?" Running a few numbers in her head, Bonnie nodded - "Yes, I do believe there should be no problems."

Redhead nodded knowingly, as she passed her mouthpiece to Bonnie - "Keep it... I'm getting lightheaded. Say, I've checked the stock summaries before coming, and noticed something... Are you bulking up for octabio production?" Bonnie nodded, inhaling some sweet smoke - "Puff... Yes, pretty much. Planning to revive Agricola, bolster it up with other bankrupts property and regear it towards octabio production. Magnachem platforms are going to be ideal for refineries." Kim nodded thoughtfully - "Makes sense. Why you're interested in railroad, though?" Bonnie smirked - "I need some infrastructure, so why not make use of railways? Not like they're used anywhere near full capacity with all the industrial outsourcing lately. And railway diesels would be another notch on going green pole." Both Ron and Kim stared on Bonnie like she grew a second head. Then applauded. "That's... crazy. Bonnie, you're a genius of repurposing. This... hell, if you swing it all, you may as well run for state governor next election." - opined redhead. Ron simply grinned with pride.

"No, thanks. I would quite prefer to stay out of politics. Anyway, that's my plans for nearest future. Anything you'd like to state, Possible?" - offered brunette. Kim scratched her head - "Well, I'm concentrating my efforts on getting the chopper deal done cleanly. There are some other sources of problems that might threaten us, so I'm keeping a wary eye out at all times. Mostly, keeping Demenz Gesellschaft mit beschränkte Haftung tumbling around in the legal cobwebs." Ron blinked - "Dementor's company? What does it have to do with this all?" GJ agent shrugged - "Demenz has no sympathy for GJ, you know. He attempted to use his company as credit guarantor for DeBeers. I've had to jury-rig a little... ahem, situation at Demenz GmbH HQ to throw a monkey wrench in it. To keep the story neat and short, a little bit of document swapping and planting set off Dementor's paranoia, and he pulled the plug on credit guarantees just in time to topple DeBeers."

Bonnie leaned closer, her eyes curious - "So, is that a black bag job, or just some sleuth of hand skulduggery?" Former heroine shook her head - "Sleuth of hand through and through. Simply sneaking into HQ at night and stocking Demenz' personal IN paperbox with all the paperwork in building that reflects on DeBeers negatively. I'm not worried about some legal retort from Demenz, if that's what you're wondering. But it's entirely possible he just might decide it's now up to him to topple GJ if DeBeers failed the task." Ron snorted - "Well, Dementor is easier to deal with, I reckon. Whatever he's planning, in the end, he'll just build another death ray." "Amen to that, dear." - concluded Bonnie.

* * *

She looked at the test. Two lines. Great. Just great. But that explains the queasiness in the mornings just fine. Time to K.O. the other involved party. Bonnie wrapped bathrobe around herself tighter, as she made her way to the balcony. Ron was there, watering his spice garden. She sat down on the rocking couch gingerly, waiting for him to finish and come sit with her. Just like they usually did on calm days, snuggling and talking about all that there is in the world. As on cue, he did. She stretched slightly, and turned to face her husband - "Ron? I need to talk to you."

Bonnie needing to talk was a red flag for Ron, so he immediately diverted his full attention to Bonnie. "Something's the matter, honey?" - he offered seriously. She shrugged, and handed the test to him. "It looks like I'm pregnant, Ron. Guess you're going to be a dad." - she offered calmly, leaning closer to him. Look on his face could only be described as shellshocked, as he leaned to wrap his arm around Bonnie. "Pregnant?... We're going to have a baby?" - he asked quietly. Bonnie nodded. Ron smiled widely and kissed her - "That's... Wonderful! I love you!"

Bonnie giggled softly, and kissed him back, leaning away slightly after. "Yeah, it is wonderful. But you have to remember what kind of ordeal whole having babies thing is." - she offered calmly - "So it's best to get ready for it while we still have some time to." He nodded thoughtfully - "Yes, of course. Plot away, m'lady, and I will follow."

* * *

- So, uh. Let me get this straight. Your mom cheats on your dad and he does not care?  
- Kind of like that, dear. I'm pretty sure papa has a mistress as well, so... it's kind of don't ask - won't tell kind of deal.  
- Huh. And here I thought my family had problems.  
- ...Weeell... It works for them, to be honest. Or, at least, didn't hurt the family life any further.  
- Are you sure? I mean, with you leaving and all...  
- No correlation here, dear. Connie and Lonnie are heartless conniving bitches, that's all. They didn't get this way because parents were screwing around, I believe. It's just how they are.  
- You'd know this best, I suppose. Anyway, why'd we need to do something about it?  
- Well, it's less of a "mom is cheating on dad" and more of "mom's lover robs dad blind", as far as I can see it here.  
- Howso?  
- According to what I see, he's intentionally running the business he's overlooking into the ground while papa's not looking.  
- And... He does that why?  
- For example, to drive it to bankruptcy, then buy it out at dumping price and revitalize it with embezzled money to become an owner rather then manager.  
- Hrm. Sound reasonable enough, yeah. Rotten, but reasonable. OK, so, anyway, what do we do about it?  
- We? Nothing. I've already got a man trailing maman 24/7. Svarovsky's good with camera, no?  
- I'd say. I was about to offer to trail them myself, but, heh... I suppose professional private eye is best choice in this case.  
- Not to mention that this keeps you here to rub my feet.  
- Aah, yes. How could I forget about this task of tantamount importance?  
- Less talkins', more rubbins'.  
- Aye-aye!

As Ron rubbed, Bonnie sorted through the last of papers, sealing the envelopes. She's been preparing to visit her father today, and put some of the matters to rest. And, one way or another, serve a harsh comeuppance to her sisters. As she set the papers aside, Ron let go of her feet, and stood up. "Anything you'd want for dinner, or should I surprise you, dear?" - he offered, smiling. Bonnie shrugged - "Surprise me, hon. You're the only one who's surprises never disappoint me." Ron grinned, and saluted her with spatula, as Bonnie started pulling on her street clothes - "One surprise coming up. Oh, and Bonnie?... I hope all goes well with your folks. Lord knows, you've bent over backwards to put things back together with them."

She nodded, and with resolute smile, stepped into the elevator - "I'll see you in the evening, darling." Ron watched as the doors closed, then turned around and went to kitchen. He had a very special recipe in his head, perfect for today in his opinion.

* * *

Author Notes: Initially, I did not plan on writing this. However, a lot of people expressed interest in a prequel to "Rites of Passage", and there was enough of freedom to spin some yarn about it.  
So, this is the result. As I`ve been writing it bit-by-bit, per inspiration strikes, it`s more of a collection of situations rather then straight-out single story. I`ve done my best to keep scenes chronologically arranged and following each other in logic fashion, but it`s entirely possible readers will notice gaps in the storyline. Also, this prequel is often referencing "Rites of Passage", and some things make noticeably less sense if "Rites of Passage" weren`t read first.  
Last but not least... This story`s pretty long. Hopefully, if you`re reading this, you`re already painfully aware of that length. ^_^


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